


Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9306890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: A new mystery finds its way into the Gotham night, and turns personal for our heroes.





	1. 1

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 1

 

“Miller!  Hey, Miller!  Hey, Rookie!”

Officer George Miller, just completing his first week as a patrolman for the Gotham City Police Department, stopped in the hallway of Police Plaza.  He rolled his eyes before turning back to the voice that had stopped him as he was trying to leave for the night.

“Yes, Sergeant Desmond?”

The older man, hurrying down the hall, threw an arm around the younger man.  “Where you heading in such a hurry, Rook?  Some of the guys are hitting up Gillespie’s Bar for a couple drinks.  Join us.  We need to find out more about you.”

Miller sighed, “Thanks for the offer, Sarge, but I really got to get home to Marie.”

Desmond ignored the new officer’s statement and began dragging him down the hall, back towards the squad room.  “Marie?  Who’s that, your cat?”

“She’s my wife, Sarge.”

“Wife?”  The older officer stopped and turned to look at the man under his arm.  “Aren’t you like seventeen, or something?  You’re a little too young to have a wife, patrolman.”

Miller rolled his eyes again, “I’m twenty-two, Sergeant Desmond, and I really need to get home.”

“What’s so important?  She already married you; it’s not like you have to impress her anymore.  You have the rest of your life to bow to her wishes, but tonight, you have to bow to our wishes.  Come on.  Rookies buy the first round.”

Officer Miller shrugged the Sergeant’s arm off of his shoulder and said, “Not tonight.  Marie is pregnant with our first daughter.  She’s due any day now.  I can’t be at a bar drinking if her water breaks.”

The Sergeant’s jaw dropped, “You never told us you were going to have a child!  Congratulations, Miller.  This changes everything.  I wish you’d told us sooner, so we could get the baby pool going.  How far along is she?”

Miller resumed walking towards the exit, Desmond following in his wake.  “Her original due date is tomorrow, but it’s been a rough pregnancy.  Doctor expects the baby to be late.  He’s going to induce labor if she doesn’t deliver on her own by Monday.”

Desmond stopped Miller at the exit door and asked, “Does the Captain know about this?”

Miller nodded, “Yeah, she knows.  I know I’ve only been here for a week, but I’m going out on leave as soon as Marie goes into labor.  I made sure to bring up the pregnancy in my interview.  Captain knew I would need leave soon after starting.  She hired me anyway.”

Desmond nodded, “You must have had pretty good marks at the Academy to get her to go along with that.”

“Top of my class,” Miller said with a smile.

“Alright, Miller,” Desmond said as they walked to the parking lot, “We’ll give you a pass, this time, but only if you name the kid Daisy, after my dear, sweet mother.”

Miller snorted, “Sorry, Sarge, but we’re going with Candace, after Marie’s mother.  Drinks are on me when I get back, okay?”

“We’ll hold you to that, Miller.”

George was finally able to get into his car and make it out of the parking lot.  He didn’t get too far, though, before his cell phone started ringing.  Seeing his home number on the screen, George’s heart rate skyrocketed.

He answered as quickly as he could.  “Marie?  Is it time?”

Marie answered, “No, George, sorry.  Are you on your way home yet?”

“Just left the station.  I have to get gas, then I’ll be home.  What’s up?”

A small sigh escaped the woman, “Oh, good.  You are planning on making a stop.  Listen, I need you to stop at the pharmacy and pick up my prescription.  Then, I would like some vanilla ice cream and the new issue of Cosmo.”

George grimaced at the shopping list, but only said, “Your prescription, huh?  The nausea is still bad?”

“I couldn’t even get out of bed for most of today.  It’s been terrible.”

George made a left turn as he headed for the pharmacy.  “You shouldn’t be getting up, anyway.  The doctor said bed rest until the baby is born.”

“I know,” she complained, “but I’m going stir crazy here.  I’ve been in this bed for a month; I need to do something.”

“I know, honey.  Doctor said it should just be a few more days.  Listen, when I get home, we can take a short walk.  When I talked to your mother last week, she said that light physical activity can get the process going.  Maybe we can get this kid out of you tonight.”

Marie sounded tired as she said, “That would be great.  I can’t wait until this is over.  When are you going to be home?”

“Well,” George said with a smile, “I have to make three stops on the way home now, instead of just one.  Probably an hour.”

“Hurry, George.  I’m just as tired of being alone all day as I am of being pregnant.”

George pulled his car into a parking spot outside of the pharmacy and said, “Your parents will be here in the morning, and I’m just a phone call away.  Captain said everything was all set for my leave, no matter when your water breaks.  As soon as this all starts, I’m off work.  I gotta go, honey.  I just got to the pharmacy.  The longer we talk, the longer it will be until I’m home.”

George could hear the smile through the phone.  “Well then, get a move on.  I want my man home.”

“See you soon, honey.”

George hung up and hustled into the pharmacy.  This month’s Cosmopolitan magazine was easily retrieved, but there was a line for the lone pharmacist on duty.  _I guess I should just be happy that the pharmacy is open.  It_ is _going on nine o’clock._

Half an hour later saw George leaving the pharmacy with Marie’s nausea medication and magazine.  A quick stop at the gas station was next on the list.  Even though his commute to work was just eight miles, George had gotten in the habit of keeping a full tank in the car, now that his wife was so close to delivering.  He would never hear the end of it if their child was born on the side of the road because they ran out of gas on the way to the hospital. 

There was a corner store near his home, so that was the last stop for George.  He didn’t want the ice cream to melt before Marie could even get a bite of it.

The lights were with him, and George arrived at his home forty-three minutes after ending the call with his wife.  To his surprise, he was met at the door by the heavily pregnant woman of his dreams.  Even in a faded pink terrycloth bathrobe, that could barely be tied around her protruding midsection, and fuzzy white slippers, which he got her as a gag Christmas present two years ago, George still found Marie to be the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

“What are you doing out of bed,” George asked in a concerned tone as he kissed her cheek.  “The doctor said not to push it.”

Marie smiled at her husband, “You spent a grueling day at the office, bringing home the bacon.  The least I could do is cook it for you.”

George’s jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen and saw a pile of pots and pans in the sink as he put the ice cream in the freezer.  “You shouldn’t have done this, honey.”

“I was bored; I needed something to do today.”

George walked into the dining room and saw the table set up for two.  Soft music played in the background, and the table was lit by candlelight.  He stopped and stared at the setting with a contented sigh.  “Oh, Marie.  What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Marie smiled, “Whatever it was, obviously I approve.”

George turned to his wife and took her hand gently.  Staring deeply into her eyes, he whispered, “Nine months pregnant, exhausted, frazzled, and you still managed all of this.  You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Mrs. Miller.”

Marie kissed her husband lightly before saying, “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Miller.”

George leaned down and planted a kiss on his wife’s pregnant belly before helping her into one of the chairs.  “Just give me one minute to change and wash up, and I’ll be right back to enjoy this wonderful feast you’ve created.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

George ran upstairs, changed out of his uniform, washed up, and returned to the dining room to find Marie standing and leaning against the wall.  Instantly, he was at her side, “Honey?  What is it?  Are you okay?”

Marie nodded, “Yeah, just got a cramp in my leg.  I needed to walk around a bit to loosen it up.”

The doorbell interrupted George’s reply.  “Well, now you have a place to walk to work out the cramp.  Let me help you.  We can both go and see who it is.”

George wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist as they slowly made their way to the front door.  Marie asked, “Who could that be?  We aren’t expecting anyone, are we?”

George shrugged, “Maybe it’s your parents?”

“They’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

“Maybe they were able to get an earlier flight?  Your dad said they were going to try for one the last time I talked to him.  It’s a good thing I got the guest room ready last weekend.”

They slowly made their way to the front door.  George couldn’t help noticing that Marie was moving much slower than she had when he got home.  _This baby is really taking it out of her.  I know she’s bored, but she really needs to follow doctor’s orders._

George flipped on the porch light and looked through the peephole.  “I can’t quite make out who it is.  Oh well, let’s find out, then.”

The door was opened, and the happy couple smiled at their visitor.  “Yes?  Can I…”

A shout, a scream, and a staccato hail of bullets fired from an automatic weapon broke the still of the otherwise calm night, before the uninvited guest calmly walked back to his car and drove away.

Another night in Gotham City.

 

**A/N:  Well, I found my notes.  As you may be able to guess, this will be a multi-chapter work.  I don’t know just how many chapters yet, but it is still a work in progress.  This might get a bit confusing, because I plan on posting two separate, multi-chapter works at the same time.  The other work in question is Invasion, which is actually much farther along than this story.  I just wanted to get this one started, and set the tone.**

**Timeline-wise, Straw, Sticks, and Bricks takes place between Bats, Birds, and Mice and Field Trip.  Looking at that, I realize my titles are getting a bit repetitive, but this title fits the overall story.  It will make sense once I get a few more chapters down, but don’t expect a big reveal moment.  I am planning this one to be a little more subtle.  Also, the main villain is a person of my own creation.  It’s a plot twist that I wanted to work into another story, but it ended up here instead.**

**Next chapter will bring our main characters into the story.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	2. 2

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 2

 

Dick skipped down the flagstone steps outside of the brick behemoth that was the Warrington School.  The boy’s natural smile was just a bit brighter today; the last day of school has that effect on everyone.

_Oh boy, no more school for three whole months,_ Dick thought.  _Bruce’s final excuse to keep me from patrolling is gone.  Batman and Robin can fight crime together every night now, instead of just Friday and Saturday nights_.

Students were running every which way, school ties and jackets hastily discarded in an effort to get to summer wear that much sooner.  However, Dick’s uniform stayed resolutely in place.  He was well able to imagine the withering glare he would receive from Alfred if he were to join in with such frivolity.  _At least, he would glare at me if he were here.  Where is he?  It’s summer, I want to get home._

Dick waited in front of the school for another five minutes, but the butler’s preferred black Mercedes was nowhere to be found in the school’s pick-up line.  Two options were running through Dick’s mind.  First, he expanded his search to include the rest of the contents of the garage.  _Maybe he thought to bring something different today, as an end of school surprise,_ Dick thought to himself.

Second, he considered calling Bruce to see if he had heard anything from the butler today that might indicate a later pick-up time.  Considering the idea, Dick pulled the phone from his pocket.  His finger hovered over the power button hesitantly.  _Bruce said this was just for emergencies, and this isn’t an emergency.  Not yet, at least.  For all I know, Alfred is sitting in traffic a block away._   Dick had just been given the phone, and he didn’t want Bruce to take it away for misuse just a week after getting it.

“Mr. Grayson.”

Dick started in surprise, and turned at the sound of the adult voice behind him.  “Hello, Mr. Greer,” Dick greeted his now-former science teacher.

The instructor smiled, “I’m surprised you’re still here.  You are usually one of the first ones out of here after school.”

“Yeah,” Dick said, taking another look at the line of cars waiting to pick up students, “Alfred hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Sure you didn’t just miss the car in the line?”

Dick sighed softly, “That’s what I was thinking, but Bruce has so many, I don’t know which one to look for if Alfred brought something different today.”

The science teacher smirked and said, “Well, I don’t know what Bruce Wayne keeps in his garage, but if I had to guess, I would say it’s that one.”

Dick’s eyes followed where the teacher was pointing, and his jaw dropped.  Turning into the parking lot was, perhaps, the most menacing vehicle Dick had seen, this side of the Batmobile.  It was wide and low-slung.  The long hood bulged ominously, and the rear wing nearly stood taller than Dick.

The car rumbled to a halt in front of the boy, and he walked forward numbly as the window rolled down.

“Let’s go, chum,” Bruce’s voice called from inside of the sports car.

Dick had to shake his head to regain his senses as he took in the car again.  Finally, he looked at the door in confusion and asked, “How do I get into this thing?  There’s no handle.”

“There’s a button next to the window, pal.”

Dick found and pressed the button, and pulled the two-finger excuse for a handle, half expecting a sci-fi _whoosh_ sound and a flow of dry ice smoke as the door opened.  Had he bothered to look back, he would have seen several upper classmen staring at the car with outright envy on their faces as he climbed into the smaller than expected cab and sank into the deep red upholstery.  The engine growled dangerously as Bruce put the car in gear and pulled out of the school parking lot.  The growl turned into a roar as Bruce gunned the engine and left the school behind.

Dick nearly had to shout to be heard over the sound of the engine.  “Bruce?  What is this thing?”

Bruce smirked, “This is a Dodge Viper.”

“I’ve never seen this one before, Bruce,” Dick said, looking around the inside of the car, “How long have you had it?”

Bruce’s smile grew, “Which answer do you want?”

Dick looked over suspiciously, “How about all of them?”

“Okay.  Technically, I don’t have this one.  Also, I’ve had it for about half an hour.”

Dick looked confused, “I don’t get it.  Wait, you didn’t steal it, did you?”

Bruce laughed aloud, “I’m on an extended test drive.  I thought you might like to see something different come to pick you up today.”

Dick leaned his head to the side, “A test drive?  Shouldn’t there be someone from the dealership with you?  Did you lock them in the trunk?”

Bruce winked at the boy, “You get certain perks when you’re a VIP customer.”

Dick rolled his eyes, “You mean, when you’re rich.”

Bruce reached over and patted the boy’s knee, “Someday, you might enjoy those little perks.”

Dick looked around the inside of the new car again, a smile slowly growing on the youth’s face.  “When do you have to take it back,” he asked carefully.

Bruce gave a matching smile, “Sometime before it runs out of gas.”

“Can we find out how much gas it has in it?”

Bruce just chuckled as he pressed the accelerator a little further towards the floorboard.

Half an hour of bombing up and down the freeways resulted in a chime and a light on the dashboard.  Bruce looked down and said, “Ah.  I guess we found out how much gas it had in it.”

Dick looked over and asked, “How big is the gas tank in this car?  We haven’t been driving all that long; how can we have run out already?”

Bruce smiled, “It wasn’t a full tank.  We really only went through less than a quarter of a tank of gas.”

“Oh.  I guess that’s a little better.”

Bruce gave a strange look and pulled over to the side of the road.  “Not all that much better, pal.  I hate to tell you, but we are out of gas.”  To emphasize his point, the engine coughed twice before shutting off of its own accord.

Dick looked concerned, “What does that mean?  Is the dealership going to make you buy it now, since you didn’t give it back before it ran out of gas?”

Bruce shrugged, “I was going to buy it anyway.  Dealerships usually aren’t happy when cars leave on test drives, and come back on tow trucks.”

“What are we going to do,” Dick asked as Bruce pulled out his cell phone.

“Call a tow truck,” Bruce said while dialing.

“But, you just said…”

Dick trailed off as Bruce held up a hand while talking to the Auto Club dispatcher.  Hanging up, Bruce turned to the boy and said, “They’re making a sale on an expensive sports car.  I think they won’t mind the tow truck.”

Dick thought for a second before changing the subject.  “Why didn’t you or Alfred tell me you were picking me up today?”

Bruce shrugged, “It was a last minute decision.  I wanted to surprise you, until I got a call from the school today.  You and I need to have a little talk.”

_Uh-oh.  What did I do?  Today was the last day of school, it’s a little late to fix anything now, unless I have to go to…summer school._   Dick paled slightly and asked, “What did I do?  No one said anything to me about problems.  Am I in trouble?”

“I got your grades today.”

That surprised Dick, “Already?  I thought report cards wouldn’t come out until next week.”

Bruce eyed the boy, “How do you think you did?”

Dick stared at his lap, “I _thought_ I was doing okay.  It was all easy stuff this year.  At least, I thought it was.  Did I mess up?  Do you need to register me for…summer school?”

“Not exactly,” Bruce said, trying to hide his smile.  “The school has noticed a pattern in your school work the last couple years.  We had a discussion, and we came to the same conclusion.  We don’t think where you are is the right fit for you.”

Dick was confused again, “Not the right fit?  I know I don’t really have friends at school, but…I mean, they aren’t going to kick me out for that, are they?”

“Are you still bored in class?”

Dick shrugged, “Sometimes, I guess.”

“Alfred says your homework takes you no time at all.”

“Most of the time, I finish it on the ride home, but we do live a ways from the school.”

Bruce sounded curious as he asked, “How hard did you have to study for your finals last week?”

Dick shrugged again, “I just read over my class notes.  What’s going on, Bruce?”

Bruce let his smile show now.  “Dick, your teachers and I have agreed that your current grade level is too easy for you.  So, if you want, when you go back in the fall, you can skip the eighth grade.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he excitedly asked, “What?”

“Next fall, you will be a freshman.  I figured you would like that idea, so I told the school to go ahead and set up your enrollment.”

Dick flung himself at Bruce in a hug, his smile lighting up the car.  As he pulled back, he could see the tow truck pulling up behind the car.  “Wait, what were my grades?”

Bruce ruffled the boy’s hair, “Straight A’s, again.  I’m proud of you, pal.”

Dick released a relieved breath as they got out of the car.  “You scared me, Bruce.  I thought I failed something.”

Bruce leaned against the guard rail as the tow truck driver hooked up the car.  He pulled Dick over to lean against him, draping his arms over the boy’s shoulders as Dick leaned his back against Bruce.

Dick looked up and said, “Since I’m not in trouble, and I don’t have to go to summer school, does that mean I can go out with you every night?”

“No,” Bruce answered, clearly anticipating the question, “but you can go out more often than you did during school.”

“Can we go out tonight,” Dick asked in a chipper tone.

Bruce smiled, “No.  I have that museum fundraiser tonight.”

Dick scrunched up his face, “Oh.  That’s right.  Am I going to that, too?”

_That’s not what I thought he would ask, or, at least, not how I thought he would phrase it._   “I just figured you wouldn’t want to go tonight, chum.”

Dick shrugged, “I feel like being around you tonight.”

Bruce cupped Dick’s cheek and said, “I’ll check the invitation when we get home.  If there is no specific age limit mentioned, then you can come.”

Dick’s face fell, “You already RSVP’d for one, though, didn’t you?”

Bruce shrugged, “This is hors d’oeuvres and drinks around the museum, not a formal dinner.  I think my response can be changed to one and a half pretty easily.”

Dick smiled up at the man for a second, until he realized what Bruce had said.  “Hey!” he said, pushing Bruce’s arm off his shoulder to turn and glare up at the man.

Bruce smiled down at the boy and pulled him back into a quick hug.

“I’m not that small anymore,” Dick said as the tow truck driver waved them over.

“Yes, you are,” Bruce said, pushing Dick into the cab of the tow truck ahead of him.  “If I didn’t know your twelfth birthday was coming up in a few weeks, I would be wondering when you would be turning ten.”

Dick’s face fell, “Do I really look that young?”

“Sorry, pal.  It’s not a bad thing, though.”

Dick sighed heavily and grumbled sadly, “It is when you’re interested in a couple girls, and they ignore you completely.  I guess I know why, now.”

_I didn’t know he was interested in girls yet,_ Bruce thought.  _I might have to have a serious talk with him soon…after Alfred talks me through how to even approach that subject with him.  I’m not ready for my little boy to be growing up so fast._

The tow truck dropped Bruce, Dick, and the car back at the dealership, and Dick noticed the strained looks on the faces of the salesmen.  He thought Bruce was intentionally trying to make the dealers feel better, and not drive away sales, by saying loudly, “I liked it so much that I ran it out of gas.  Think you can fill the tank up while we do the paperwork?”

They were taken to an office to complete the purchase and left alone for a couple minutes.  Dick gasped, which caused Bruce to lean over to the boy, while looking around to check for problems.  “I left my backpack in the car.”

Bruce smiled, “That’s okay.  We’re taking the same one home.”

Dick nodded as the salesman returned to the office.

An hour later, they left the car lot in Bruce’s new toy, Dick smiling as the car rumbled and growled under them.  “Hey, Bruce?”

“Yes, sir,” Bruce said with a smile.

“Why did you buy a car that looks like the Batmobile?”

“It does,” Bruce asked, a little shocked.

Dick shrugged his shoulders, “A little bit.  Like, maybe, a civilian Batmobile.”

Bruce shook his head.  “Huh, I didn’t notice that.  I just wanted something fast and loud to pick you up from school in today.”

Dick’s jaw dropped, “Did you really buy a new car just to pick me up from school?”

_I thought we were past the feelings of monetary inadequacy?_   “It’s not like this is the only time the car will ever be used.  I didn’t buy it just for today, but I did think seeing it for the first time in the school parking lot would be a surprise.”

“It was,” Dick said with a smile.  “It would have been even more surprising if Alfred had been driving it.”

Bruce laughed, “Yes.  That would have been something.  Did you see the faces of the other students at your school when you got into this car?”

“No.  Why?”

“Because their shock almost matched yours.  I think your cool factor went up a couple points today.”

Dick looked over at the man strangely.  “Bruce?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t say ‘cool factor’ again.”

Bruce smiled broadly.  Dick cocked his head and asked, “What’s that look for?”

“I finally hit the uncool parent phase.  I owe Lucius ten bucks.  I bet him that we wouldn’t hit that plateau until you were a teenager.”

Dick smirked at the man.  “You’re still pretty cool.  It’s just not really something you are going to be able to quantify in a factor.”

They fell comfortably quiet for a bit as Bruce pushed the new car higher towards the rev limiter, the smile on Dick’s face growing with each mile per hour over the speed limit.

Bruce slowed as he turned off the highway and onto the backroads towards home.  “Hey, Bruce?”

Bruce smiled.  He had thought that Dick had fallen asleep on the drive.  “Yes, Pal?”

“I like this car.”

“Good,” Bruce said with a smile, “We’ll take it tonight, then.”

“I forgot to ask,” Dick said in a curious tone, “which museum is tonight a fundraiser for?”

“It’s for the Evelyn Fillenhauser Antique Doll Museum.”

Dick whipped his head over to stare at Bruce in shock, his eyes wide and his jaw sagging.  “What?!?”

Bruce couldn’t contain his smile, “You probably should have asked that before asking to go tonight.  I hear they are having a live demonstration of Quaker knitting techniques.  It should be fascinating.”

“I just…I just remembered.  I promised to, um, help Alfred to, um, build a model of…of Big Ben, yeah, Big Ben.  Out of Lego.”  Dick winced to himself.  _Why did I add that last part?_

Bruce smiled.  _Come on, little bird.  Can’t you tell when I’m messing with you?  That was the worst fake excuse you’ve ever come up with._   “Oh, well, you can’t break a promise to Alfred.  That’s too bad, too, because after the Doll Museum, I was going to stop by the fundraiser at the Law Enforcement Display at the City Museum.”

Dick’s eyes brightened as he said, “You know, I think I might have gotten my dates wrong.  Yeah, I think I’m helping Alfred with that tomorrow.”

Bruce shook his head, “Dick, what did I tell you about cover stories?”

Dick sighed, looking at his lap, knowing he was caught.  “Always be specific when you lie.”

“And don’t stutter when you do it, it’s a sure giveaway.  Did you honestly think I would drag you to an Antique Doll Museum fundraiser?”

Dick shrugged, his cheeks darkening slightly.  “I don’t know.  You support a lot of causes.  Your parents might have collected old dolls.  I haven’t been to all the rooms of the house.  For all I know, there might be a room full of old dolls that were passed down from the middle ages, or something.”

Bruce was trying not to laugh.  “And, you believed the Quaker knitting demonstration?”

“It sounds plausible, for a doll museum.”

The car was parked in the garage and the occupants made their way into the house.  They were met in the entryway by the ever-faithful butler.  “Ah, gentlemen, you are somewhat later than anticipated.  Were there problems at the dealership?”

Alfred caught the youth as he skipped forward to hug the butler.  Bruce smiled at the sight and said, “No problems, Alfred.  We just broke the new car in a bit.”

Dick smiled up at the man.  “We ran out of gas on the test drive and had to wait for a tow truck.  Hi, Alfred.”

Alfred couldn’t help but smile at the youth as he lifted a hand to cup the back of the young head affectionately.  “Good afternoon, Master Dick.  How was your last day of school?”

“Great, Alfred,” Dick said with a smile, “One surprise after another.”

“Really?  Would you care to regale me with your tales over dinner?”

Dick frowned as he and Bruce followed Alfred into the dining room.  “Isn’t it a little early for dinner?”

“I believe, if you eat now, you will have enough time to prepare for your evening.”

“Alfred?” Bruce asked, just as confused as Dick.

Alfred looked at his employer innocently, “Is there a problem, Master Bruce?  I was under the impression that Master Dick would be accompanying you this evening.”

“Wait, you already responded for two?”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred smirked to himself, always glad when he could remain one step ahead of Bruce.  “The invitation made no mention of an age restriction on tonight’s event, and I believed he would enjoy the evening.  Was I mistaken?”

Dick smiled up at Bruce as the man took a seat at the dining table and said, “No, not at all.  You saved us from having to call and see if we could change our RSVP.  Did you…”

“I made sure to inform them that you were bringing Master Dick, and not a date,” Alfred interrupted.

“Great, Alfred,” Bruce smiled, “Thanks.  Eat up, chum, so we can get changed.”

Following their short meal, during which Dick told the butler about his last day of classes, Bruce and Dick headed upstairs to change.  “Alfred!” the boy called out.

“I am in with Master Bruce, young sir,” Alfred replied.

Dick wandered across the hall and into Bruce’s bedroom, saying, “I thought you said tonight wasn’t a black tie event.”

Bruce answered for Alfred, who was pressing a wrinkle out of Bruce’s suit pants.  “It’s not, pal.  That’s why you have your suit on, instead of your tuxedo.”

“Well, what’s this, then?”

Dick held up the slip of silk that was meant to go around his neck, and Bruce tried to control his laugh.  Alfred turned and saw what the child was holding, a literal black tie.  Alfred rolled his eyes as he handed the pants back to Bruce.  “Master Dick, would you like to wear your tuxedo tonight?”

Dick’s eyes widened as he felt his little joke backfiring.  “…But, I’m already wearing this one.”

Alfred gave an evil smirk, “That can change, young sir.  There might be an unfortunate accident on the way back to your room.”

“Wouldn’t that just make more work for you, though?”

Alfred took a step forward, “Yes, it would, and I know how much you loathe doing that.”

Dick looked at the butler with the beginnings of a pout.  “But, I hate the penguin suit,” Dick said in a small voice.

“I know, child.  Now, if you are asking for help with your tie, then give it here.  Otherwise, your time grows short.”

Dick handed the tie over and stood still as Alfred quickly fastened it to his neck.  When Alfred took a step back, Dick asked, “Would you really have made me wear the tuxedo, Alfred?”

The smile returned to the butler’s face as he said, “I guess we’ll never know, young sir.”

Bruce smiled at the pair, “Go put your shoes on, Dickie.  We should get going.”

Dick stepped out of the car, outside of the City Museum, with a smile that matched the one on the face of the young valet, when he saw what he got to park next.  Dick trotted up to Bruce as the car rolled away from the valet stand.

“Are you sure we can’t take a few more laps around the block?  That car is fun!”

Bruce smiled down at the suited youth and said, “Maybe on the way home.  You’ve never taken to any of the new cars I’ve brought home before like you have to this one.”

“You’ve never bought a car just to pick me up from school before.  You chose a good one.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Bruce said, holding out his hand.  Dick took the hand readily, and they turned and walked up the steps, into the large building.

An officious, painfully thin woman bustled up to the duo.  She barely glanced at Dick before addressing Bruce.  “Good evening, Mr. Wayne.  My name is Lorie Duval, head of the organizing committee for tonight’s event.  Rest assured, we have made appropriate arrangements for your visit tonight.”

Bruce nodded, gesturing to the boy at his side, “Good evening, Ms. Duval.  This is Dick, my boy.  I appreciate any arrangements you may have made, but I assure you, they really aren’t necessary.”

Ms. Duval looked surprised, but turned and offered a terse greeting to Dick.  “Good evening, young man.”

Dick favored the woman with a warm smile, “Hi, Ms. Duval.  It’s nice to meet you.”

She turned back to Bruce without another word to Dick.  “Are you sure you don’t need anything, Mr. Wayne?  We have provided age-appropriate refreshments for the…for Dick.  We can also open other areas of the museum, if tonight’s event is going to be boring for him.”

_I’m standing right here, Ms. Duval,_ Dick thought, slightly annoyed at the woman’s attitude.  “Thank you, Ms. Duval,” Dick said, “but I don’t think that will be a problem.  I wanted to come tonight; I won’t get bored.”

Bruce smiled at Dick, then turned back to the event coordinator.  “Thank you for your efforts.  If we need anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

The woman nodded and walked away.  Dick sighed as they headed for the displays.  “It’s not like I’ve never been to one of these events before, Bruce.  When are people going to stop treating me like some anomaly?”

Bruce snorted a laugh, “You _are_ an anomaly, Dick.  You go to school with the kids and grandkids of the types of people these events are designed to attract.”

“You mean rich people,” Dick said with a smile.

Bruce returned the smile, “Well, yes.  Most of them would never consider bringing their kids to a charity function.  The organizers recognize that.  In fact, most of them count on it.  It makes preparations easier when you have to only plan one menu.”

“How so,” Dick asked, turning his head to consider the conversation.

Bruce pointed to a waiter, orbiting the room while carrying a silver tray.  “See the waiter?  I can guarantee he isn’t walking around with a tray of mini corn dogs and tater tots.  My guess would be canapes and crab puffs.”

Dick watched as the man passed them, “But, I like crab puffs.”

“I know, pal, but it isn’t exactly easy to convince an event planner of that.  As to your question, I would guess that most of the event planners will stop treating you like a child sometime within the next seven to twelve years.”

Dick’s jaw dropped as he did the math in his head.  “So, not until I’m eighteen?”

Bruce smirked, “At the very least.  But, you will have a leg up on your future peers.  You’ll have been to tons of these events before most of them attend their first.”

They approached a bar, and the bartender smiled down at Dick.  “Good evening, gentlemen.  What can I get you?”

Dick tapped Bruce’s arm and asked, “This is a special occasion, right?”

Bruce eyed the boy, “That depends of what you plan on ordering.”

Dick turned back to the bartender and said, “May I have a ginger ale, please?”

The bartender looked at Bruce, who nodded and said, “I’ll have a glass of champagne.”

“You got it.  One champagne, one ginger ale, coming right up.”

Dick glanced up, “Is that okay, Bruce?”

Bruce winked, “A soda every now and then won’t hurt you.  Thank you for asking first.”

The bartender returned with a flute of champagne for Bruce and a matching flute that he filled from a can of Canada Dry.  He handed over the similar looking beverages, enjoying the smile that came to Dick’s face.  Bruce appreciated the look as well, and dropped a generous tip into the startlingly empty tip jar on the bar before walking into the museum.

True to his word, Dick did not get bored with the Law Enforcement display.  Even something as simple as a display of one hundred year old handcuffs and shackles caused the boy to gasp in delight.  Bruce couldn’t help but notice that Ms. Duval made a point of keeping an eye on them every few minutes.  _If I didn’t know better,_ Bruce thought, _I would think she was waiting for Dick to break something.  Actually, I think that’s exactly what’s going on.  Too bad, lady, my boy is going to prove you wrong._

“What do you think, pal?”

“This is cool, Bruce,” Dick said distractedly, staring at a large map of the United States, festooned with police and sheriff badges from the various states and counties, pinned in their appropriate places.  Dick held a hand up, and was looking like he was tracing a line through the air over the map, which was taking up half of a wall.

“Looking for some place in particular,” Bruce asked, nudging the boy.

Dick took several seconds before answering, “…No.  Just tracing our old summer schedule.  It’s amazing how far the circus would travel in a year.”

Bruce nodded, seeing Dick pointing at the Pacific Northwest.  He rested his hands on Dick’s shoulders from behind and asked, “Want to share?”

Dick looked up into Bruce’s face, “Are you sure?  You’ve never really asked too many questions about my time…before Gotham.  I just figured you didn’t want to know.”

Bruce squeezed gently.  “I want to know,” he said softly.  “I never wanted you to feel forced to share.  I also didn’t want you to hurt, or get sad, talking about it, remembering.”

Dick took a deep breath, thinking _I’ve wanted to talk about it.  Remembering doesn’t always hurt, and Bruce is right here, if it does.  I don’t think talking about it will hurt._   “I want to tell you,” Dick said softly.

Bruce patted Dick’s shoulder encouragingly, his hand migrating to the back of Dick’s neck.  Dick smiled and started in, restarting the route with his finger.  “We always started in Florida.  That’s where we spent the winter, because it was warm enough for the animals to stay outside.  I told you that before.  Pop Haly has a friend who let us camp on his farm for the winter.  We would do chores for him, to pay for taking up his space.  We would do a week or two of shows in Florida to start the season, depending on how many bookings we could get.  Then, we went north.  We would only get as far as Virginia before turning west, into the Southeastern states.  We played a lot of state fairs and spring harvest festivals, but they were always good bookings for us.  The circus would spend two to three months working our way west, before turning around and heading northeast again.  Usually, the closest we got to here was Metropolis.  I know, that’s a bad word around here.”

Dick winced as Bruce’s neck rub tightened dramatically at the mention of Superman’s home city.  Fortunately, Bruce loosened his grip before Dick could complain, or he could actually hurt the boy.

Dick took a relieved breath before continuing, “We would spend the summer zig-zagging across the Midwest, wherever we could get a show.  We never really went too far west, though.  We were a small circus, and it’s more of a regional thing.  There were a couple circuses out west that monopolized the business out there, so we stayed where we could get work.”

Dick was quiet for a minute, before asking introspectively, “I wonder how the circus is doing?  I wish there was a way to call Pop and check in with him.  I hope he’s able to get enough bookings.”

“I’m sure he’s doing fine, Dick,” Bruce said.

Dick looked up critically, “What aren’t you telling me, Bruce?  I know that tone of voice.  You’re hiding something from me.”

Bruce sighed, “I don’t know how many bookings they’re getting, but I guarantee you, each one is a sell-out.”

“How can you know that,” Dick whispered.

_I might as well tell him,_ Bruce thought.  “You know how Jean sometimes does special projects for me?”

“Yeah,” Dick replied slowly.

“Well, one of them is to follow the circus.  Remember when the circus came back to Gotham, and I told Mr. Haly that I wanted to help out, and it would be like him selling extra tickets to each show?  That’s exactly what I did.”

Dick cocked his head in confusion, “I don’t get it.”

Bruce nodded, “No matter how many people attend the performance, every ticket available is paid for.”

Dick still looked confused, “So, you buy all the tickets, then give them to people?”

Bruce shook his head, “No.  Everyone who goes pays their own way.  After a performance, Jean finds out how many tickets were sold, then we buy the unsold tickets.”

“What good is buying the tickets after the show?”

Bruce smiled at the question.  “If the show sells out on its own, great.  If it doesn’t…well, we make sure it does.”

Dick still didn’t seem like he was getting it, “But, how does that help the circus?”

“Besides the obvious?”

Dick nodded, “Yeah.”

“Haly’s Circus will always have a sell-out.  That puts money in their pockets and food on the table.  It also helps with advertising.  If they can arrive in a new town and say they sold out all of their shows in the last town, it creates hype, and gets people interested in showing up and seeing the show.  That creates word-of-mouth buzz, which puts more butts in seats.  You know what butts in seats equals, right?”

“People…sitting?”  Dick thought he was starting to understand Bruce’s line of thought.

Bruce smirked and ruffled the boy’s hair, “More money.  Selling out the show is only one part of the circus.  Actually having people in the seats leads to sales.  Concessions, vendors, midway games; those only make money when people show up, and people only show up when they’re interested in what’s going on.  Do you get it now?”

Dick smiled brightly, “Yeah.  Thanks for doing that, Bruce.”

Bruce shrugged, “Knowing that the circus is still operating and thriving is important to you.  I think you should know by now that making you happy is my number one priority.  I’m glad to do it.”

Dick’s smile didn’t waver.  “You know what else this means, right?”

“What, pal?”

“You know where the circus is at any given time, and how to get in touch with them.”

“I suppose I do,” Bruce said with a chuckle.  “Would you like to track them down next week?”

Dick grimaced, “Can’t we do it any sooner?”

Bruce shook his head.  “Jean keeps track of them for me.  If I called and asked, she would go into the office and find out, but it’s the weekend, and that isn’t fair to her.  But, you can come to work with me on Tuesday, and you and Jean can track them down, and maybe even try to get in contact with them.”

Dick’s smile lit up the room as he hugged Bruce.  “You’re the best, Bruce.  Wait, why not on Monday?”

“I’m not going to work on Monday.  You and I are doing something very special.”

The boy was almost shaking in anticipation, “Oooh!  What is it?”

Bruce smiled warmly and leaned down to whisper in Dick’s ear, “Whatever you want.”

Dick gasped, “You mean…we get to spend the _whole_ _day_ together?  No work, no phones, no nothing?”

“I’m all yours, chum.”

Dick was bouncing now, and just barely held in a squeal of delight.  “You really are the best, Bruce.”

Bruce sighed, “I always promise to spend more time with you, but I have yet to keep that promise.  You should really complain more, Dick.  I feel like I’m ignoring you.”

“I don’t feel that way.”

Bruce smiled, “I’m glad to hear that, but I still want to spend more time with you.”

“You won’t get an argument out of me.”

After a refill on drinks and a handful of crab puffs, they returned to the displays.  Bruce noticed that Ms. Duval had stopped following them around, and he was rather proud that Dick had made her into another convert, appreciative of his behavior.

Dick turned away from a display telling the origins of Arkham Asylum, and pointed across the room.  “Hey, there’s Commissioner Gordon.  We should go and say hi.”

Bruce nodded, seeing the public servant, but put a warning hand on Dick’s shoulder before the boy could trot off.  “We should, but have you ever met Commissioner Gordon before?”

Dick gave Bruce a look that said _duh_ loud and clear.  “Well, yeah,” Dick said, rolling his eyes.

Bruce looked down seriously, “No, I mean, have _you_ , Dick Grayson, ever met him?”

Dick’s look changed as he understood Bruce’s meaning.  “Oh.  Um…I don’t think so.  I can’t remember.  Why does it matter, though?”

“You can’t exactly walk up and be familiar with someone you’ve never met before.  Wait until I introduce you before turning on the Grayson charm, and don’t act like your avian friend.  We don’t want to give anything away.”

Dick nodded, and a quick trip across the room found them standing next to the Police Commissioner.  “Good evening, Commissioner Gordon,” Bruce said.

The older man turned at the sound of Bruce’s voice, and quickly changed his expression.  The look of sad concern faded into a genial, practiced smile.  Bruce made note of the look as the man spoke.  “Oh, hello, Mr. Wayne.  And, who do we have here?”  Gordon sent a wink and a smile to Dick, who grinned.

Bruce gave a society smile, “I couldn’t remember if you two had been introduced, and he’s been wanting to meet you.  This is my ward, Dick Grayson.  Dick, Commissioner James Gordon.”

Dick shook the outstretched hand and met the smile with a bright one of his own.  “Nice to meet you, Commissioner Gordon,” Dick chirped.

“Hello, Dick.”  Gordon turned back to Bruce, “You’re lucky, Mr. Wayne.  My daughter would have been bored to death here, but it looks like the two of you are enjoying yourselves.  My Barbara doesn’t really go in for all…this.”  The Commissioner waved around the room at the displays.

“We’re doing our best, but how many times do I have to tell you to call me Bruce?”

Jim shook his head, “I don’t know if I can get used to that one.”  He took another glance at Dick and said with a barely concealed smirk, “Far be it for me to question your parenting style, but isn’t he a little young for champagne?”

Bruce smiled at the joke, but it sailed right over Dick’s head.  He turned a concerned pout on the Commissioner and pleaded, “It’s ginger ale, honest.  Bruce isn’t doing anything wrong.  The bartender just gave me this glass.”

Bruce placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, trying to reign the boy in.  Gordon winked down at the youth and said in an exaggerated tone, “Okay.  I believe you, _this time._ ”

“Dick, it’s okay.  He’s just kidding with you.

Dick looked up, his lower lip shaking.  “But, he’s the police commissioner.  If he thought you were giving me alcohol, he would have to report it to…CPS.”

Gordon winced.  _Are they still giving Wayne trouble?  It’s been years.  You would think they would have found something by now, if there was something to find._   “Bruce is right, Dick.  I was just joking with you.”

Dick sighed, “Okay.  I’m sorry, they just scare me.”

“They scare me, too, pal,” Bruce said, patting Dick’s chest as he pulled the boy back to lean against his legs.

“They aren’t my favorite agency, either, Dick,” Gordon said, “Some of them like their jobs too much, and the sense of power it gives them.”

Bruce looked around the room, looking for something to change the subject.  Finally, he settled on the display as a whole.  “How involved were you and the department in making this display?  It’s very impressive.”

Gordon shook his head, “Not very involved, actually.  We donated a few items, but that’s it, really.”

“Do you know whose idea the display was,” Dick asked.

Jim smiled, “Nope.  Wish I did, though.  The department gets a percentage of the profits from ticket sales.  It would be nice to know who to thank.”

Dick cocked his head, staring at the lawman, “Are you okay, Commissioner Gordon?  You look like something’s bothering you.  If it’s us, we can go away.”

Jim gave a compassionate smile to Dick.  “He’s an intuitive one, Bruce.  You need to be careful, to make sure he doesn’t guess his birthday or Christmas presents.  Thank you for asking, Dick.  I’m feeling a bit out of sorts tonight.  The Police Commissioner has a lot of duties.  I had to perform one today that is probably my least favorite.”

Dick looked around, “This fundraiser isn’t _that_ bad.”

Gordon gave a small snort of a laugh.  “Thank you for that.  No, the city lost a bright young officer last night.  I had to call and offer my condolences to the family earlier.”

Dick gasped and slapped his hands over his mouth.  Bruce’s hand tightened on Dick’s shoulder, and he said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Jim.  I can’t imagine having to make that phone call.”

Gordon eyed the man, “No, I don’t suppose that type of call would come up too often in the business world.”  Jim looked down, “Dick?”

“Y-yes, Commissioner?”

“Don’t feel bad for trying to cheer me up.  You couldn’t have known what was going on, and I do appreciate the small jokes.  They helped.  Thank you.”

Dick looked up strangely, “How did…”

“My daughter gets that same look, far too often,” Gordon interrupted.  Looking over Bruce’s shoulder, the man said, “If you two will excuse me, the Mayor is here, and I need to talk with him.”

Commissioner Gordon walked away and Dick and Bruce watched him go.

“Bruce, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of the Commissioner.”

“You didn’t embarrass me, pal,” Bruce said quietly, “I was looking for a way to ask that same question.  You just figured it out before me.  I never thought the answer would be…that.”

Bruce looked down to see the distraught look still on Dick’s face.  “Come on, pal.  I think it’s about time we called it a night.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, following Bruce out of the museum.

 

**A/N:  I hate to say it, but this story is progressing far slower than I thought it would.  An insane amount of work at the office and a short trip out of town last week has taken my mind off this story completely.  That is my way of saying that chapter 3 might be a while.  I know where I want to go with the story, it’s just getting there that is the problem.  I would love to hear what everyone thinks so far, even though barely anything has been revealed about where this plot is going.  Hang in there, it will all get written eventually.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	3. 3

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 3

 

“Oh, hey.  There you are.  I’ve been looking for you, pal.”

Bruce let go of the nervous breath he had been holding for the last several minutes.  Following their breakfast on Saturday morning, while Bruce was talking to Alfred, Dick had disappeared.  Bruce felt like he had turned his back for a second, and when he turned back, the boy was gone.

The disappearance hadn’t really bothered Bruce, until it stretched into its second hour.  Concern starting to set in, Bruce started a search of the boy’s favorite places in the house.  None of them favored him with so much as a hint at the youth’s location.

As possible, known locations started to dwindle, the nerves started in.  Finally, Bruce thought to check the monitors for the external security cameras.  Walking past his study, he saw the door cracked open.  Bruce stuck his head into the room, and was gladly relieved to see the boy’s bare foot, waving lazily in the air as Dick lay on the rug in front of the couch in the office, reading a book.

“I’m right here.  Why were you looking for me?  Did you need me for something?”

Bruce shrugged as he walked into his study and sat on the couch.  “You disappeared after breakfast.  I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Dick didn’t look up from his book.  “It’s not like I’m going to go anywhere.  I figured you would be in here most of the day, so I came here.”

“What do you mean,” Bruce asked, confused.

“It’s simple, Bruce.  You aren’t going to work on Monday.”

“No, I’m not.”

Dick glanced up, “I know you, Bruce.  Not working on Monday means you will try to get some work done today.”

Bruce looked off into the middle distance.  _He’s right, I was planning on doing some paperwork today.  I didn’t know I had become that predictable._   “You’re right, pal.  I would have tried to do some work today.”

Dick looked back at his book, turning a page.  “Well, you gave me Monday, but I’m taking the whole weekend.  I want to be with you as much as possible before we go to your office on Tuesday.”

Bruce sounded sad as he said, “I won’t be good company if I’m trying to get some work done from home, chum.  You’ve sat on the other side of my desk enough to know that.”

Dick shrugged, “I brought a book; I won’t bother you.  I just want to be near you.”

“Dick, I…”

Dick interrupted, turning to look at Bruce and giving him a small smile.  “It’s okay, Bruce, I want you to do some work.  If you don’t do it now, you will be thinking about it all weekend.”

Bruce returned the smile and squeezed the still-waving foot gently.  “You really know me too well, Dickie, and I thank you for it.”

Dick turned back to his book, and Bruce tried to read over his shoulder.  “What’cha reading?”

“Huckleberry Finn.  I decided to try to work my way through Mark Twain this summer.”

Bruce nodded, “I guess that’s as good a place to start as any, but you probably should have read Tom Sawyer first.  There’s just one thing, though.”

“What’s that,” Dick said distractedly.

Bruce grinned evilly at the foot he still held.  Fingertips made light contact with the sole, causing Dick to jump and turn.  “Your smile isn’t big enough right now,” Bruce said, before diving at the mildly protesting boy and tickling him.

Several minutes later, Alfred brought a cup of coffee into the office for Bruce.  “Ah.  I see you found the young sir.”

Alfred couldn’t quite hide his smile as man and boy looked up at the servant.  Dick was lying flat on his back, still trying to catch his breath in between occasional giggles.  Bruce sat next to his son with crossed legs, fingers of one hand running through Dick’s hair. 

“Yeah, I found him,” Bruce said softly.

“Then, I shall bring in a snack in a few minutes, unless you will be elsewhere when I return.  It is a lovely day outside.”

Bruce knew Alfred was trying to convince him to give up the pursuit of completing a couple hours of paperwork, but with Dick’s permission, he was going to work hard while he could.  Dick glanced over and said, “We’ll go outside later, Alfred.  It’s no fun to be out there alone.”

Alfred shot Bruce a look, “Surely the paperwork won’t pile up that much for skipping one day.”

Dick sat up and leaned against Bruce’s side, “Probably not, but the more he gets done now, the less there is to do the rest of the week.  That means he can come home earlier.  I _want_ him to do it now.  That way, he won’t be thinking about it on Monday.”

_Clever child,_ Alfred thought.  He had been overjoyed when he learned of the plans of a long weekend.  Bruce took far too little time out to spend with the boy as it was, in Alfred’s opinion.  Giving him an entire day out of his busy schedule would give Dick a grin that would last for weeks.  “Very well, then, but don’t lock yourselves away all day.”

Another two hours passed before Alfred returned to the study, to collect his charges for lunch.  The butler found Bruce sitting at his desk, staring at Dick, who lay on the couch reading.  Dick was so engrossed in his book, that he didn’t notice the two adults staring at him.

“Lunch is ready, Master Bruce,” the butler whispered, “Were you able to get any work done, or did you sit here for the last two hours and stare at Master Dick?”

Bruce smirked as he whispered back, “I got everything done that I wanted to.  Now, I don’t even have to return to this room this weekend, unless Dick wants to.”

Alfred smiled, “Very good, sir.  He will be pleased with that.”

“If he pulls his nose out of that book, he might.”

Alfred tried not to laugh as he asked, “Did you have any plans for this afternoon?”

“I thought we would take a walk in the woods before the meeting tonight.  He usually likes that.”

“If I may, sir,” Alfred said softly, “far be it for me to recommend any extended screen time for either of you, but I did notice that The Maltese Falcon will be showing on television tonight.”

“Is it,” Bruce asked, interested, “I don’t think he would be bored by that.”

“Hey, Bruce,” Dick called out from the couch, not looking away from his book, “I’m getting hungry.  Do you know if it’s lunch time yet?”

Bruce smirked at the butler before saying, “I’m not sure, chum.  Why don’t you ask Alfred?”

“Huh?”  Dick was confused by the answer, until he looked up and saw Alfred standing next to Bruce, a smile lighting up his face.  Dick blushed slightly, “Oh.  Hi, Alfred.”

“Lunch is ready whenever you are, young sir,” Alfred said.

Following the meal, Bruce and Dick stood on the back patio and stared out at the grounds surrounding the manor.  Bruce nudged Dick and asked, “Which way do you want to go, chum?”

Dick had been excited when Bruce had suggested a hike.  There were so many little areas of the grounds that he figured he would never get to explore.  It was nice to be able to see something new.

However, today, Dick had something else in mind.

“Let’s go that way,” Dick said, pointing to the southeast.

Bruce’s mind boggled, “You want to go that way?”

“Yeah, we haven’t been that way for a long time.”

Bruce looked at the indicated path, knowing what lay at its end.  Then, he thought about the date and said, “Okay, pal.  We can go that way.”

The pair walked, a bit faster than Bruce thought they might.  He wasn’t surprised when small fingers slipped into his palm as soon as they walked under the shade of the trees.

When the first rays of light broke through the upper boughs, indicating an opening in the forest, Dick’s step faltered.  Bruce sighed, knowing this was coming.

“Dick, we can turn back, if you want.”

“No,” Dick said, quiet resolve in his voice, “No, I don’t want to turn back yet.  I want to do this.”

Nodding sadly, Bruce let the boy lead them into the family cemetery.  Several of the stones shone dully in the dappled sunlight.  Man and boy both took involuntary, deep breaths when the markers were visible from the path.

Wanting to give Dick some privacy to talk to his parents, Bruce opened his hand and slowed down, expecting Dick to walk ahead, as he had on several occasions over the years.  Dick instead stopped and stared up at Bruce.  “I want you to come with me, Dad,” the youth said quietly.

Bruce, for only the second time ever, felt uncomfortable with Dick calling him ‘Dad’.  _To call me that, here of all places,_ he thought.  _I can read his parent’s names from here; it doesn’t feel right.  Still, why does that bother me so much?_   “Okay, pal.”

Dick dragged Bruce along the worn path to his parent’s marker.  Finally dropping Bruce’s hand, Dick fell to his knees in front of the stone, placing a hand between his parent’s names.

“Hi, Momma, Daddy.  It’s been another year without you.  I’m sorry I don’t come out to see you enough.  I know you would want me to get on with my life, and I’m trying, but it isn’t easy.”

Dick took a deep breath, then waved Bruce over.  The man had been backing up slowly, to try to give Dick some privacy.  Seeing the boy beckon him forward, he couldn’t ignore it.  He walked up and grabbed the still-waving hand firmly, comfortingly.

That wasn’t enough for Dick, as he pulled Bruce down to sit on the grass behind him.  Unabashedly, Dick backed up onto Bruce’s lap, still staring at the familiar features of the stone.  Two arms loosely, but comfortingly, surrounded the boy, as a tear worked its way down Dick’s cheek.  He continued talking to his parents.

“I miss you two so much, but I’m in a really good place now.  This is Bruce.  I know, you are probably tired of hearing me talk about him.  I couldn’t remember if we’ve ever come out here together.  He takes care of me.  He makes it…okay.  He never holds it against me for missing you.  We do so much to help the city together.  Dad, you always told me that it was our job to help people whenever we could.  I know you were talking about the circus when you told me that, but Bruce and I have found a way to do that almost every day.  I get to use what both of you taught me to do what you wanted us to do.  I…” Dick sniffled wetly, “I just want to make you proud of me, Daddy.”

Dick turned and buried his face in Bruce’s shoulder as he broke down.  Bruce held the boy tightly and let him cry himself out.  Several minutes later, when it seemed like Dick was almost done, Bruce had a revealing thought.  _He needed this, but there is something else he is asking for, without even realizing it.  Something he needs just as much, if not more, than this._

Bruce spoke softly, hoping he was doing the right thing.  “Mr. Grayson, Mrs. Grayson, I’ve never wanted to come here with Dick, because there is no way I can do as good a job of raising your son as you did.  I’m doing my best, but there are days where I just don’t feel like it’s enough, with what he has been able to bring into my life.  I have never wanted, or tried, to take your places, because it wouldn’t be possible.  This is your son.  I’m just glad I get to be the one to see him through this life.  Dick said he wants to make you proud, and I know he has, because he makes me proud every day.  Your son is the most impressive person I know, and it makes me sad that you never got to know the person he is becoming.  There is no way to express how good a person your boy is, and I know that is not something I had to teach him.  If anything, he taught me.  I know he was able to do that because of your teachings and your example.  Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Grayson.  We never met, but you have given me the best gift in the world.”

Dick’s tears intensified, as Bruce knew they would.  Several minutes later, Dick lifted his head to look up at Bruce.  “Do…do you really think they’re proud of me?”

“There’s no way they couldn’t be, Dickie.  And don’t ask your next question, because there has yet to be a time when I’ve not been proud of you.”

Dick laid his head back on Bruce’s chest and mumbled, “I’m sorry you never got to meet Mom and Dad.  I think you would have liked them, and I think they would have liked you.”

Bruce smiled, “If they were anything like you, then I think we would have gotten along.”

Dick squeezed Bruce tightly before standing.  He brushed off the back of his pants with one hand while wiping at his eyes with the other.

Bruce looked up at the boy and said, “We don’t have to leave yet, if you don’t want to.  I’m sorry that I forgot their anniversary was coming up.  You can have as much time as you need.”

Dick gave a small smile, “I had as much time as I needed.  I just wanted them to know I was being taken care of, and loved.  We did that.  Now, we can go.  Besides, I don’t have to come out here to be able to remember them.  They’re always with me.”

Bruce rose, and the small hand worked its way back into his grasp.  Despite the earlier tears, Dick was smiling again.  _How did you make such a resilient boy, John and Mary Grayson?_

They walked by the marker for Bruce’s parents on their way back to the trail.  They didn’t stop, but Bruce did spare it a lingering glance.  _I hope you saw that, Mom and Dad.  Your son is a changed man, thanks to your grandson.  Sometimes, I don’t even recognize myself anymore, and I think I prefer it that way._

Alfred was surprised that his charges returned from their hike so soon.  The remnants of tears on the faces of man and boy caused near-panic in the butler.  Dick left to use the restroom, and Alfred immediately pounced on Bruce.

“What happened, sir?”

Bruce sighed, “We went out to the cemetery.  It was his idea,” Bruce said quickly at the look on Alfred’s face.  “The anniversary of his parent’s death is Monday.  I completely forgot.”

The involuntary gasp Alfred released told Bruce that the butler had forgotten as well.  “That poor child.”

“He handled it like a champ, though.  I tell you, Alfred, I want to know where he gets his strength from, because that place needs to be protected.”

“I hope you were considerate enough to give him his space,” the lessons in propriety never ended from the servant.

Bruce sighed again and shook his head, “I tried, but he wouldn’t have it.  He wanted to sit in my lap while talking to his parents.  It was weird, though.  It didn’t feel awkward, like I thought it would.  He sat in my lap, talking to his parents like they were sitting right there, but the whole time, he never sounded like he felt it was weird, or unnatural.”

“Did you, sir?”

Bruce shrugged, “At first, until I realized that it was exactly what he needed, and, I think, what I needed.”

They were quiet for a minute before Bruce took a deep breath and said, “I think I’ll go start the movie.  I think we both could use some popcorn.”

Unknown to the kitchen occupants, Dick had waited in the hall until Bruce told Alfred what was going on.  _I knew you would figure it out, Bruce.  You are just as much my Dad as Dad; you need to stop acting like some intruder when I get sad about missing them.  It’s going to happen, and I’m going to come to you when it does, because you are the only one who can make me feel better.  They wouldn’t mind, because you’re looking out for me.  It’s time you realized that._

Several minutes later, Dick walked back into the kitchen and looked around.  Alfred smiled at the youth before handing him a serving tray with a large bowl of popcorn on it. 

“He is waiting for you in the den, Master Dick,” Alfred answered the unasked question.

Dick returned the smile and said, “Thanks, Alfred.

The butler stopped Dick before he could leave the kitchen.  “Master Dick, was there any special reason you chose to listen in from the hallway earlier, instead of from in here?”

Dick blushed, “You saw my shadow, didn’t you?”  Alfred nodded as Dick sighed, “Because he wouldn’t have said what he did with me in the room, and he needed to talk about it with you.”

“Did you intentionally manipulate him into realizing the esteem in which you regard him?”

Dick gave him a knowing smile, “Monday is going to be sad for me, and even if he didn’t realize it when he made the plans, I’m going to need him on Monday.  Maybe now he won’t feel as guilty about it.  He has to know by now that I love him.  He should also know that the ghosts of Mom and Dad aren’t going to haunt him if he loves me back.  It’s okay if he acts like my father, because I want him to be my father.”

Alfred smiled softly, “Then, maybe you should act like his son.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Alfred.”

“That’s what I thought.  It’s working, young sir.”  Alfred waved the youth out of the kitchen, “Go on, enjoy each other.”

Alfred followed Dick to the den at a discreet distance, in order to witness what he knew would be a touching scene.  Dick entered the room and set the tray on the coffee table, then crawled up on the couch to lean against Bruce.  An arm was instantly wrapped around a young shoulder, and Dick laid his head on Bruce’s chest.  The elder leaned down and placed a light kiss on the top of Dick’s head.  Dick snuggled in a bit more, pulling his legs up under him, before whispering, “Love you, Daddy.”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, pal,” Bruce whispered back.

Alfred left the room before his presence could be noticed.

“Bruce?  Bruuuuuce!”

Dick smiled as the man snorted as he was awoken by his son.  “Wha…what?”

The smile turned into a light giggle as Bruce sat up, confused.  Alfred had come in to retrieve his charges for dinner when he found Dick sitting on the couch, watching the sleeping Bruce.  He relayed his message regarding the impending meal, and left Dick to the task that usually fell to Bruce, to wake the sleeping member of the family.

“You fell asleep, Bruce.  Alfie says dinner is ready.”

Still confused, Bruce asked, “Dinner already?”

“Yeah,” Dick smiled, “It’s been a couple hours, Bruce.”

Bruce sighed contentedly, “Oh well…what did you think of the movie?”

“It was good.  I just wish we had seen it from the beginning.  Did you see any of it?  You fell asleep pretty quickly.”

Bruce couldn’t honestly remember how much of the movie he saw this time.  “I’ve seen it before.  It’s one of the few movies I will watch more than once, so we can see the whole thing next time.”

The pair rose, and Bruce was reaching for the remote, when a bump for the upcoming evening news played.  “Another Gotham City Police Officer gunned down overnight.  Full story on the news at eleven.”

Bruce and Dick looked shocked.  “Do you think that’s the same one Commissioner Gordon told us about last night?”

Bruce shook his head, “I don’t know.  I don’t think so, chum.  The reporter said ‘another officer’.  That sounds like more than one.  I guess we have something to investigate tomorrow night.”

Dick smiled, “We?  I get to patrol with you tomorrow?  On Sunday night?”

Bruce returned the smile, “I think we can make an exception this time.  It _is_ your summer break, after all.”

“Thanks, Bruce.  What about tonight, though?”

“We have a JLA meeting.  Barry mentioned he would be bringing Wally.  You two can talk in the Rec Room, or whatever it is you do while we’re meeting.”

_That night…_

The Dynamic Duo materialized in the transport room of Mount Justice.  Batman was a bit surprised that no one was in the command center.

Robin looked around and asked, “Are we early?”

“Maybe a few minutes earlier than normal, but there should still be someone on duty.”

Walking ahead, they heard the elevator ding, and several seconds later, Wonder Woman walked into the control room.  “Oh.  Hello, you two.  You’re the first ones here tonight.”

Robin’s face fell a bit at hearing that Kid Flash hadn’t arrived yet.  Batman addressed the Amazonian, “Are you the only one on duty tonight?”

She nodded, “Yes.  Green Arrow is ill, and couldn’t take monitoring today.  He won’t be at the meeting, either.  I was available to cover for him.  Before you comment, the restrooms are placed too far from the control room.  We need to do something about that.”

Batman hid his smirk, but didn’t mention the absence from the room.  “Actually, I had another idea.  We need someone on watch while we are in our meeting.”

Wonder Woman smirked.  _He’s in a good mood tonight.  I wonder what kind of day these two had today._   “Did you have anyone in mind?  We are going to be a bit short staffed tonight.”

Batman crossed his arms, “Short staffed, you say?  Can you think of some short-term help?”

“One or two names spring to mind.  Do you think they can be convinced to help us out?”

Batman and Wonder Woman turned to look at Robin, who gasped.  “You mean me?  Can…can KF and I really watch the board?”

“Think you’re up to it, partner?”

“Sure,” Robin chirped.  He ran over to the chair in front of the computer and jumped into the seat.  “Um…what do I have to do?”

Batman again hid his smile, this time at his partner’s eagerness.  “These screens monitor worldwide news broadcasts.  I want you to channel surf and make note of any potential world crises.  You can let the small things go, but anything that looks like the beginning of a war, or terrorist activity, should be noted.  There is a log in the computer.  Read a few of the entries to see what we are looking for in reporting.”

Batman pointed to another console and said, “This is the communications console.  The various world leaders and international organizations have a direct line to us.  If anyone calls, take a message.  Don’t give out any information or make any promises, just take the information and hang up.  Note any calls in the log.  Watch the Zeta Tube, too.  All Justice League members are automatically recorded in the log, but you will need to enter any visitors into the log manually.  Don’t bother entering yourself or Kid Flash, we already have ways of tracking your comings and goings.”

Batman could imagine how wide Robin’s eyes were under his mask, and had a hard time controlling his proud smile.  Wonder Woman had no such aversion to showing her amusement.  “I don’t know, Batman.  Do you think he can handle such an important task?”

Robin sent Batman a pleading look, completely missing the jesting wink that Wonder Woman sent him.  Batman said, “It’s just for an hour.  I don’t think he’ll let the world fall apart before you get back on duty.”

Wonder Woman made sure Robin saw the wink this time, and he blushed slightly as Superman was announced by the Zeta Tube.  Batman held Robin’s gaze for a second before asking, “Any questions?”

Robin thought for a second before asking, “Earlier, when you said you wanted some short term help on short notice, was that a joke about my height?”

The barest hint of a smile played at the corner of Batman’s lips before he said, “Yes, Robin.  It was.”

“Okay.  Just checking.”

The adults started to walk away before Batman turned back and pointed to a button on the control panel.  “Oh, by the way.  Whatever you do, do _not_ press that button.”

Robin gasped again and asked quietly, “What does it do?”

“It puts the facility on lockdown.  I would hate to have our meeting interrupted by the sirens and flashing lights that would cause.”

“I won’t press it,” Robin promised solemnly.

“Good.  Have fun with Kid Flash, and tell Flash that he’s late, again.”

Batman joined up with Superman and Wonder Woman at the elevator.  Superman gave a sideling smirk to the Dark Knight and said, “You know full well that there is no lockdown button on that panel.”

The smirk that Batman had been hiding for the past several minutes finally broke through.  “Robin doesn’t know that.”

Wonder Woman asked, “Which button did you tell him not to press?”

“The environmental control.”

Superman shook his head, chuckling, “Right.  So, your kid is safe from turning on the air conditioning for the next hour.  We survive without people at the board all the time, why put Robin on duty?”

Now that it broke through, Batman was having a hard time suppressing the smile.  “It makes him happy, and it doesn’t hurt for him to know what I’m doing when I pull monitoring duty.  He needs to know that doing what we do isn’t all fighting criminals and making arrests.  If he’s going to continue, one day he will be pulling monitoring shifts of his own.  A sneak peek never hurt anything.”

Superman believed that, out of all the explanations he had just heard, only the first one was Batman’s true motivation tonight.

_Meanwhile…_

“Of course he would point out that I’m five minutes late tonight.  Have fun, you two.”

Flash vanished as the boys turned to the control panel.  Flash had found a second chair for Kid Flash before leaving for the meeting, and the yellow-clad boy was busy seeing how fast he could get it to spin.

“You gotta come over this week, KF.  It’s warm out, we need to go swimming, and watch movies until late, and eat way too much.”

Kid Flash stopped the chair so suddenly that Robin was shocked when the other boy wasn’t thrown across the room.  “You had me at ‘eat way too much’, but don’t you still have school?”

“No, we got out yesterday.”

Kid Flash’s jaw dropped, “That’s not fair.  Our last day isn’t until next Friday.”

Robin’s face fell again as the plans changed, “Oh, sorry.  Well, next weekend, for sure, then.  Maybe we can even patrol together.”

“I don’t think my aunt would be too happy about that, but everything else sounds good.  I’ll ask Flash after the meeting.”

Robin smirked, “Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“Next year, I’ll be in the same grade as you.”

KF looked stunned, “How is that possible?  You’re two years younger than me.”

“It’s more like a year and a half, given where our birthdays fall on the calendar.  Anyway, the school is going to let me skip the eighth grade next year.  I’ll be a freshman, just like you.”

KF shook his head, “Dude, you’re too smart.”

Robin looked sheepish, “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“Um, yeah.  It is.  You seem awfully happy tonight.  It can’t just be because you get to run the board tonight.”

“I get to run the board with you; that makes me happy.”  Robin could tell that his friend wasn’t buying it.  He sighed, “I’m trying to use all of my happy up now.  Monday is going to suck, I just know it.”

“I’m still in school, Rob.  There’s nothing I can do about that.”

Robin shook his head, “It’s not that.  It’s…how do I explain it?  It’s _them_ , KF.”

“Them?  Wait, them, as in… _them?_ ”

“Yeah,” Robin said sadly.

“Your parents?  Oh, you told me about this last year, didn’t you?  It’s the anniversary of when they…”

KF trailed off as Robin nodded and stared at the floor.  “I figure, if I’m happy now, maybe it will carry through to then, just a little bit?”

Kid Flash gripped Robin’s shoulder, wishing he hadn’t mentioned anything.  He knew his friend would never hold it against him, but he hated when Robin felt this way.  “I wish I could help you, Rob.”

Robin looked up and gave a small smile, “You do, KF.  Even when you’re not around, just knowing I have a friend who cares helps a lot.”

KF’s lower lip quivered just a bit.  “Dude, you’re going to make me cry right along with you.”

Robin’s smile brightened a bit, “No, I’m not.  I’ve just been feeling sentimental today.  But anyway, next weekend, for sure.”

“Just try to keep me away.”

They fell comfortably silent for a minute before KF asked, “Anything on the board?”

Robin scanned the monitors for a second before saying, “Doesn’t look like it.  Is this what they do on those monitoring shifts?”

KF shrugged, “I guess.  Flash says they are mostly boring, and sometimes a waste of time.”

“You don’t think Batman was trying to bore us, do you?”

Kid turned to look at Robin, “You’re the one who can read his mind.  You tell me.”

Robin gasped as he looked at a screen, “There’s a riot in Turkey.  Should I note it in the log?”

“Why not?  It’ll kill another minute while we wait for the meeting to finish.”

Robin brought up the log and started to type.  Kid Flash nudged him with a smile, “Your first log entry.  You should be careful, though.  If you do too good of a job, you might have to start attending their meetings.”

Robin cocked his head as he saved his entry, “Why would that be bad?  I think it would be interesting to see what they talk about in there.  Wait.  I can’t believe, after all this time, all these meetings, we’ve never tried to eavesdrop on their meetings.”

KF looked shocked, “How have we never thought of that before?”

Robin looked sheepishly at the older boy, “I’ve always had so much fun, with just you, that it never occurred to me.”

“Same here,” KF said, blushing slightly.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Robin queried.

_Meanwhile…_

“Any last bits of new business?  I know this meeting has been a bit shorter than other meetings.  I didn’t think anyone would mind.”  Superman smiled as he opened the floor.

Batman waved a hand before speaking, “I’ve become aware of a couple of targeted attacks against Gotham Police.  It may come to nothing, but I will be starting a new investigation into the murders tomorrow.”

“How many are we talking here,” Flash asked.

“Two in the last forty-eight hours, that I’m aware of, but I haven’t been paying close attention to the news for the last few days.”

“Is that a lot for Gotham City,” Wonder Woman asked.

Batman looked in her direction, “There may be a lot of crime in Gotham, but attacks on the police that result in fatalities are rare.  Two on consecutive days is too much to be a coincidence, and needs to be investigated.”

“Okay,” Superman said, “keep us informed of updates.  Anything else?”

Flash took the floor, “Kid and I finally nabbed that serial bank robber I told you about a couple weeks ago.  We didn’t catch on to his pattern until he had hit twelve banks.  We were finally able to catch up to him just after he pulled his sixteenth job.  We got him on Wednesday.  Local police were able to recover thirty-nine of the forty-four million dollars he stole.  I guess he had spent some already.  Vice is tracking the purchases, but the crime spree is over, for now.”

“Good work,” Superman commended.

When no other updates were brought forward, Superman ended the meeting.  Batman pulled his usual quick exit, to get back to Robin, but this time, he was followed by the rest of the meeting’s attendees.  They all wanted to see how the boys handled their first monitoring assignment.

Robin nudged Kid Flash as he heard the ding of the elevator arriving on their floor.  “KF, wake up,” he hissed, “The elevator!  They’re done early.”

Kid straightened up, wiping a line of drool from his chin just in time.  He leaned over as the adults came into the room.  “Thanks, Rob.  I don’t think I was supposed to fall asleep.”

“Report,” Batman’s gravelly voice called out as the League approached the computer.

“Mostly quiet,” Robin said.  “There’s a riot in Turkey, and hurricane headed for Brazil, but other than that, nothing.”

“And,” Batman pressed.

Robin thought for a second.  Batman hadn’t told him that he would be quizzed on his short assignment.  In hindsight, he should have expected it.  “Both events were entered into the log, just in case anyone wants to check them out.  No calls came in, and no one came through the Zeta Tube since Flash and Kid Flash.  Per your instructions, I didn’t note their arrival.  And we didn’t press the button.”

Superman and Wonder Woman both smiled at the youths.  The Kryptonian said, “I think I can start scheduling you for solo shifts, Batman.  It looks like you already have a suitable watch companion.”

The boy was almost hopping with joy.  “Oooh, can we, Batman?  That sounds like fun!”

_It’s safer than taking him on patrol,_ Batman thought.  “We’ll talk about it.  Let’s go.”

The Dynamic Duo turned to leave when Robin grabbed Batman’s arm.  “Wait.  Can Kid Flash come over next weekend?  His last day of school is next Friday.”

Batman looked over at the red-clad hero.  “Flash?  Do you have anything to say about it?”

The man shrugged, “Not yet.  We’ll have to see how your final grades look, Kid.  Your aunt wasn’t too happy with your English grade on your last progress report.  We’ll see if you really brought it up, like you told us you did.”

KF looked worried, “It’s better, Unc, I swear.  I’m going to pass the class.”

Flash tousled the boy’s red hair, “We’ll let you know, Batman.”

Robin turned a pleading gaze up to Batman.  “If Flash says it’s okay, can he come over for the weekend?  Please?”

Flash snorted a laugh, “The weekend?  Forget about his grades, he’s all yours.”

“Grades first, Flash,” Batman said before turning to Robin to forestall his next comment.  “If Flash says it’s okay, I don’t have a problem with it.  I’ll just have to tell you-know-who to buy in bulk this week at the grocery store.”

Robin gave a winning smile, “Thanks, Batman.  You’re the best.  By the way, they all know who you’re talking about.  Why do you talk about him like that?”

“For the same reason we call you Robin.”

“Oh.  Well, why doesn’t he have a secret name, too?”

Batman tried to meet Robin’s eyes through their masks, “Robin, our real names _are_ our secret names, even if everyone listening to us talk right now knows what they are.  That’s why I call him you-know-who.”

Robin seemed to consider that for a second, “Still, he should have a name, like The Bat-ler, or something.”

Batman led the youth to the Zeta Tube, shaking his head at the barely restrained laughs coming from behind him.  Punching in the code for the Batcave, Batman said, “I’ll let him know you think so.  Maybe the two of you can come up with one together.  Something he will actually respond to over the radio.  I can’t see him responding to The Bat-ler.”

“That’ll be cool,” Robin said, his mind already whirling with more possibilities before they disappeared from Mount Justice.

 

**A/N: Yes, I know this chapter is a little fluffy.  I was just feeling a little sentimental when I wrote it.  Next chapter will see the beginning of the Bat-work.  And, just so no one is confused, we all know Alfred will end up with the Agent A moniker, even though The Bat-ler is appropriate, as well.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	4. 4

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 4

 

“Alfred said he hasn’t seen you in hours.  Why am I not surprised to find you down here?”

Dick jumped out of the chair in front of the Bat computer and ran across the cave as Bruce entered the subterranean space Wednesday afternoon.  After four and a half days of near constant contact, Dick had been sad when Bruce had to go to work on Wednesday morning without him.

Monday had been spent much the same way many of their Saturdays were spent.  Dick snuck into Bruce’s room early in the morning and crawled into bed with the man, looking for some comfort against the nightmares that had plagued his sleep.  Random combinations of John Grayson, Bruce Wayne, and Batman had performed a high-wire trapeze act in his night vision, inevitably ending with the familiar snap, followed seconds later with the double thud that will echo in Dick’s ears for the rest of his life.

After a couple more hours of sleep, held in the arms of his surrogate father, Dick found himself strangely calm and steady on the anniversary of his parent’s death.  He was able to make it until the early afternoon without another breakdown.  Of all things, a documentary on the plight of the African elephant rendered the destruction of the calm that had pervaded the house.  Dick was inconsolable for hours after that, no matter how hard Bruce tried.  When he was able to speak again, Dick explained that a long-forgotten memory had surfaced while watching the documentary.  Dick was two, and his father carried him on his shoulders to see the elephants.  A trunk, seemingly massive to the diminutive toddler, had extended and sniffed at the child’s face.  Dick had at first been scared, until John had told him that the giant was just trying to make friends.  After that, Dick had never been afraid of elephants again.  A close-up shot of an elephant trunk in the documentary had sent the long-buried memory flying to the surface of Dick’s mind, and his heart had shattered at the feeling of emptiness and loss.

A night without a patrol led into man and boy traveling to Wayne Tower on Tuesday morning.  Bruce spent the morning in a quarterly meeting, while Dick spent the morning tracking Haly’s Circus with Jean.  The secretary had no problem finding the traveling circus, but the search was extended at Dick’s request, so he could plot out where the troupe had been over the last few months.

Once he had a map with a zig zagging line drawn across it, Jean had presented him with a phone number, written on a sticky note, before discreetly leaving for an early lunch.  Dick dialed the number from the woman’s desk, excited and nervous at the same time.  The deep, rich voice of Pop Haly was unmistakable; even if it had been a year since Dick had heard it, he would know that voice anywhere.  They spoke for just over an hour before the circus master had to go, but Dick promised to call again soon.

Following his call, Dick ghosted into Bruce’s office, silently approaching the large desk.  Bruce watched him come, his finger hovering over the mute button of his speakerphone.  It wasn’t necessary, though, because Dick was absolutely silent in his movements.  Bruce even had to look down to check if Dick had removed his shoes to make his movements quieter.  He hadn’t.  Dick slid right up next to Bruce and held up the sticky note with a satisfied grin.  Under the phone number, Dick had written _they’re doing great_.  Bruce read the note and gave a small smile.  Dick reached up and kissed Bruce’s cheek before mouthing _thanks, Dad_ to the surprised man.  He then walked silently to the couch at the side of the room and began reading his book.

After a long patrol Tuesday night, Dick had slept in on Wednesday morning, missing Bruce’s departure for work.  Another couple chapters of Huckleberry Finn was followed by a large lunch, during which a radio news broadcast gave the news of yet another slain officer.

Dick looked up at the man as he still hugged Bruce’s waist.  “We heard on the news that another policeman was killed last night.  Are we going to start investigating that tonight?”

Bruce smiled as Dick refused to be unwrapped from around his waist.  “Yes, we need to look into that.  Is that why you came down here, to start an investigation?”

Dick blushed slightly, “Um…yeah.  That’s why I originally came down here.”

Bruce looked up at the big screen, and his eyes narrowed, “Then why are you browsing thought the confidential files of the Central City School District?”

Dick flushed a deep red.  “I’m going to the grocery store with Alfred tomorrow.  I just wanted to know if I should tell him to buy food for three or eight.”

Bruce shook his head wearily, “Dick, there is a reason hacking is illegal.  Did you change anything?”

The boy looked shocked at the suggestion, “Why would I do that?  That would be cheating.  I just wanted to see what Wally’s scores were.”

Bruce sighed as he sat in the recently vacated computer chair.  Dick hopped up on his knee immediately, and Bruce wrapped an arm around the boy’s slight waist.  “Well, how are his grades?”

Dick shrugged, “You wouldn’t be happy if _I_ brought them home, but Flash might think they’re okay.  Two A’s, three B’s, and a C, in English.  It looks like that one is close to a B, though.  He might be able to bring that one up with his final, if they haven’t entered his score yet.”

“So, groceries for eight, then,” Alfred asked from close by.  Bruce hadn’t heard the butler enter the cave.

“Looks that way,” Bruce said as he checked to make sure Dick hadn’t triggered any alerts in the school district computer before safely logging out.  “We’ll have to find something for you two to do next weekend.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dick said with a smile.

Bruce smiled and ruffled Dick’s hair.  “So, you said you came down here to start an investigation.  What have you found so far?”

Dick blushed again and said, “Um…I didn’t get too far before I got distracted with…weekend plans.”

“I see.  Well, what did you find out?”

Dick brought up a file with a single page off text, typed in colorful fonts of various typefaces.  Bruce rolled his eyes at the mélange of words as Dick read, “Well, of the three victims, all of them were off duty when they died.  All were killed between ten PM and midnight.  Other than that, I wasn’t able to find any similarities between the victims.  I was going to look at where they were killed next.  I…I got distracted, waiting for the map program to load.  I really haven’t been looking for too long today.”

Bruce smiled as he pulled up the waiting map program.  He asked idly, “Oh?  What did you do today?”

Again, the boy blushed before saying, “Just playing around.”

Alfred hid his smirk and decided to out the boy, just for fun.  “Did you find what you were looking for in the garage, Master Dick?  You were out there for quite a long time today.”

Bruce looked back at the youth in his lap, “The garage?  What were you doing out there, chum?”

Dick gave a nervous smile, “Just what I said, playing around.  That…what did you say it was called?  Viper?  That’s really cool.”

Bruce’s smile grew as he poked the boy lightly, “How many miles did you put on it, pal?”

Dick looked shocked, “None!”

Bruce was chuckling at the defensive tone when Dick mumbled, “I couldn’t find the keys.”

Bruce squeezed the youth in his lap and looked up at the butler.  “Pure trouble, Alfred.  This one is just pure trouble.”

_And you’re loving every minute of it, sir_ , Alfred thought to himself.  “I did warn you about that propensity in young boys before you took Master Dick in.  Dinner in two hours, sirs,” Alfred said over his shoulder, walking out of the cave.

“What am I going to do with you, Dickie?”

Dick looked up, confused, “But, you said I could look through the cars.”

“Yes, I did.  So, the question remains; what am I going to do with you?”

Dick smirked, “You can take me for a drive?”

Bruce laughed, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would,” Dick said, laughing right along with Bruce.

“Tell you what.  Let’s work on the case until dinner, eat whatever spectacular creation Alfred comes up with, then I’ll take you for a special ride.”

Dick’s eyes widened as he nodded, “Sounds good, Bruce.  What are we going to drive around in tonight?”

Bruce hitched a thumb over his shoulder.  Dick followed the finger and looked in the direction of the Batmobile.  His smile lit up his face, but he tried to hide the excitement in his voice.  “Well, if we have to take something, I guess that is as good as any other car.”

Bruce shook his head as he pulled up his own note file, “Like I said, nothing but pure trouble.”

Dick quickly read over Bruce’s much denser, and less colorful, case file.

“You said there was another murder last night,” Bruce asked.

Dick nodded, still reading, “That’s what the radio said this afternoon.  That makes three, right?”

Bruce shook his head, “According to what I’ve been able to dig up, that actually makes seven.  One each over the last seven nights.”

Dick looked thoughtful, “Have they all been cops?”

“Yes.  What does that tell you?”

Bruce had a habit of asking Dick questions like that, to get him to think about cases on a deeper level.

“Someone has a grudge against the police.  In Gotham, that really doesn’t narrow down the suspect list any.”

Bruce shook his head, “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed.

Dick turned his head to the side at the two sets of notes, thinking out loud.  “How many of the seven were on duty when they were killed?  The three I knew about were all off duty.”

Bruce sat down again and started typing, looking up the information.  “Good question, Pal.  I hadn’t thought to ask that yet.”

Dick smiled at the praise, then his look sobered as he had a thought.  “Am I going out of order?  Am I getting ahead of the investigation?”

Bruce shrugged, not noticing the look on the boy’s face, “Maybe it’s a little out of order, but it’s a question we would have gotten to eventually.”

“Oh.  Well, what would your next step have been?”

_I know it’s been an emotional weekend for him, but he doesn’t need to sound like he thinks he’s disappointing me.  He’s not._   Bruce cringed internally at the subdued tone of the boy’s voice.  He didn’t like it.  “My next question was actually one that would have led into yours.  I was going to continue with the map angle and plot out where the crimes occurred.  Depending on what we found, then I would have wanted to look into your question.”

Bruce finished making his information request, then started plotting crime scenes on the map.  By the time he placed his last dot on the map, the computer beeped with his search results.  Bruce stared at the map, stroking his chin in thought. 

“Dick, check those search results.”

The boy brought up a list as Bruce looked at each neighborhood indicated on the map.  “These are all residential neighborhoods,” Bruce said thoughtfully.

“Oh,” Dick said sadly, “I guess we need to look into the personal lives of the murdered officers, then.”

“What do the results say, chum?”

Dick sighed, “They were all off duty.  We will have to check, but I think…this is really sad, Bruce.”

Bruce pulled up what Dick was looking at on the big screen as Dick said, “I think they were all killed in their homes.”

“That’s…possible,” Bruce said, before glancing at Dick.  _Uh-oh, he’s chewing on his lip.  A serial killer that strikes his victims in their homes, of course that’s going to scare him.  It’s a good thing we don’t get visitors on a regular basis._

“Hey, pal?  It’s okay if you want to stop for now.”

Dick took a deep breath and thought for half a minute before saying, “No, we have to continue.  If we don’t find him, he’ll kill again.  I want to continue.”

Bruce met the resolve behind his son’s eyes and said, “Okay, but you tell me if you want to stop.  I’ll tell you what, let’s start looking into the victims.  I’ll get their jackets and we can split them up,” Bruce started typing a new request into the computer while saying, “You can look into the first three victims, and I’ll look at the last four.”

Dick looked confused, “What will their coats be able to tell us?”

The comment caught Bruce off guard, to the point where he stopped typing and turned back to look at Dick.  Dick cocked his head to the side and asked, “What?”

Shaking his head, Bruce smiled and said, “Nothing, pal.  Just remembering why I keep you around.  Anyone who can make Batman laugh, well, I need to keep track of that person.  No, their official police files are also known as their jackets.  It refers to the file folder, not an actual jacket.”

“Oh,” Dick’s expression cleared at the explanation, “I guess that makes sense.”

The duo set to perusing the police files.  It didn’t take more than a couple minutes to confirm Dick’s guess that all of the police officers had, in fact, been killed in their homes.  To get some extra information about the crimes, they both started watching the recorded news reports of each murder.  To make it go faster, they both examined the recordings about the victims Bruce had assigned to each of them individually.  The Dynamic Duo was soon engrossed in watching their individual videos, headphones firmly planted on each of their heads.

Their efforts at uninterrupted work were interrupted by a blood-curdling scream from Dick, as a large hand landed on his shoulder.  Acting on instinct, Dick grabbed the large hand and twisted, hitting a pressure point on the large hand with both thumbs as he tried to subdue his perceived attacker.  Dick maneuvered around to try to incapacitate his foe by twisting his arm behind his back, and that is when he came face to face with the large, yellow ‘S’ on the back of the red cape.  Not that he ever normally would have been able to injure Superman, the surprise and speed of the reaction had still allowed the eleven year old to bring the Man of Steel to his knees.

Bruce was laughing as Dick quickly let go of the hand and trotted around to the front of the larger man.  “You scared me, Uncle Clark,” Dick said in a betrayed voice.

“I can tell.  Sorry, pal, I thought you heard me.”

Bruce noticed the way Clark was shaking his hand.  “Did he find your secret Achilles’ Heel?  That can’t have actually hurt you.”

Clark looked down at his hand as Dick walked over to stand next to Bruce.  “Pressure points are pressure points, no matter what planet you’re from.  I guess I wasn’t the only one off guard here.”

Bruce smiled as he rested a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “Why are you here, Clark?”

“I saw a report of another murder this morning.  How many does that make now?”

Bruce sighed, “Seven.  We were working on the case when you decided to get on Dick’s bad side.”

Clark winked at the boy before asking Bruce, “Need any help?”

Bruce shook his head, “Not yet.  We really only just started with our research today.  We’re pretty sure these are fairly calculated attacks; well planned.  I’m going to talk to the Commissioner tonight.”

Dick looked up at Bruce and asked, “ _You’re_ going to talk to him?  I thought…”

Bruce ruffled Dick’s hair with a smile, “Okay, _we’re_ going to talk to the Commissioner tonight, see if he has anything for us.”

“Oh.  Sounds good,” Clark nodded.

Bruce looked slightly uncomfortable as Clark stood and stared around the cave.  “Was there anything else, Clark?”

Alfred walked into the cave, cutting off Clark’s need to answer.  “Ah, Mr. Kent.  Right on time.  Dinner will be ready in just a couple minutes.  I believe you have plenty of time to change clothes.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, “You were invited.  Clark, I totally forgot.”

Clark shrugged, “Do you want to reschedule?”

“No.  You’re already here, and dinner is ready.  Go change, Clark.”

Superman walked away as Dick looked up at Bruce again, “What’s going on, Bruce?  I didn’t know he was coming over.”

Bruce smiled down, “Yeah, well, I forgot, too.  We talked about this at the meeting.”

Dick looked confused, “We did?”

“Not you and me, pal.  Me and Clark.  It’s just a little end of school thing we wanted to do for you.  I know how much you like him…you know, when you aren’t trying to rip his arm off.”

Dick stared at Bruce, a calculating look on his face, “Is that really what happened?  It isn’t like you to just invite Uncle Clark over.  If you really wanted to do something to surprise me, you would have invited Wally.  Is it Uncle Clark’s birthday, or something?”

“As you pointed out, Wally is still in school for a few more days.  Are you telling me you _don’t_ want to have dinner with Clark?”

“No,” Dick yipped quickly, “I like him, don’t send him away.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Dick,” Clark said, coming up behind the boy, “And we really did just think that a new face at the dinner table would be fun for you.”

Dick smiled, “Oh, okay.  Let’s go eat, then.”

_Later…_

“Another excellent meal, Alfred,” Clark said, wiping his hands on a napkin.

Alfred inclined his head, “So nice to have another person to appreciate my cooking.  Thank you, Mr. Kent.”

The diners adjourned to the living room, where Alfred served the adults coffee.  Clark smiled at the youth, who had taken a place under Bruce’s arm.  “So, I hear congratulations are in order, Dick.”

“What do you mean, Uncle Clark,” Dick asked, turning his head to the side.

“I mean your excellent report card, and the fact that you’re headed for high school two years early.  That’s quite a feather in your cap.”

Dick smirked, “I need all the feathers I can get, if I’m going to keep up my position as the resident bird.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and nudged the boy at his side.  “I can’t believe you said that, chum.  That joke was bad, even by your legendary standard of bad jokes.”

_My Dad would have thought it was funny,_ Dick kept to himself sadly.  Instead, he said, “We all can’t be masters of comedy like you, Bruce.”

Clark snorted hard at the statement, very glad he hadn’t been taking a drink of his coffee when Dick spoke.  When he was able to speak again, Clark asked, “What’s the news on your case?  I only ask because this seems like the sort of thing you would have solved in short order.”

Bruce looked down and said, “We really only started looking into it today.  So far, seven dead.  No discernable connections between the victims, other than occupation.”

Dick tapped Bruce’s arm, “Bruce, that’s not true.”

Bruce looked surprised, “You found a connection between the victims?  Why didn’t you say so?”

Dick shook his head, “No, not that part.  I mean the…the seven dead part.”

“What’s wrong with that number?”

Dick took a deep breath, “If my reports were right, and depending on how you want to count it, it’s actually either ten or eleven killed.”

Bruce looked confused, “Why wasn’t that reported before, and why the two different numbers?”

Dick stared down at his hands, “The first victim was found with his wife and brother-in-law also dead.  The third victim’s wife was killed, too.”

Bruce looked thoughtful.  “I didn’t check to see if any of the four victims I was looking into were solo deaths.  That’s something to check out.  Why did you give me two numbers, though?”

Dick sniffled, “The, um, third victim’s wife.  She…she was pregnant.  I didn’t know if you wanted to count a victim who hadn’t been born yet.”

Bruce and Clark shared a look of concern at Dick’s tone.  Clark mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to Bruce, for bringing up the topic.

“It’s eleven victims, Dick.”

Dick nodded solemnly, “Good.  Whoever this is shouldn’t be able to get away with something like that.”

“He won’t, pal,” Bruce said softly, “We’ll get him.”

An awkward silence took over the atmosphere in the sitting room.  Alfred walked back into the room and frowned.  _I was gone for five minutes.  What possibly could have happened?_

“Master Wayne, Mr. Kent, may I refill your coffee?”

Bruce seemed to wake up, as if from a trance.  “No, thank you, Alfred.  Dick and I need to get ready for patrol.”

“I should go, as well,” Clark said, rising, “Thanks for an excellent dinner, Alfred.”

Dick walked up to Clark as they headed for the clock.  “Sorry I ruined your evening, Uncle Clark.  Thanks for coming, though.”

Clark gripped Dick’s shoulder, “I wouldn’t have missed it, Pal.  You didn’t ruin my evening.  If anything, it’s my fault for bringing up a sensitive topic.”

“There’s no good way to talk about dead babies, Uncle Clark.”

They stopped in front of the Zeta Tube, and Clark opened his arms to hug Dick.  Despite the somber mood, Dick still jumped at the chance to hug the man happily.

“Keep smiling, Dick.  You and Bruce will get this guy.”

“Thanks, Uncle Clark.  You bet we will.”

Once Clark had put Dick back down, Bruce said, “Dick, go get dressed, so we can get started on tracking whoever we’re looking for.”

Dick trotted off, waving at Clark as he went.  Bruce came closer, and Clark asked, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“Like I said on Friday, not yet.  If he eludes us for too much longer, I’ll reconsider my position.”

“Good luck, Bruce,” Clark said, disappearing through the transporter.

Bruce took a deep breath before turning away from the Zeta Tube.  He gave a small smile as he saw Robin, uniform on, mask in place, and a smile on his face.  The Boy Wonder was sitting on the hood of the Batmobile.  He waved and said, “Come on, Bruce.  You promised me a ride.”

“Yes, I did,” Bruce said, his own smile growing as he headed for the locker room.

_Later…_

Having taken a few nights off of patrol, and having a shorter than normal patrol the night before, the patrol was a little busier than Batman thought it would be.  Batman and Robin stopped crime after crime, and as such, didn’t have a chance to begin to look into the murders until they slipped into the Commissioner’s office at a quarter to midnight.  For quite possibly the first time in his time as Batman, the office was empty when Batman entered.

Robin took a chair in front of the desk, while Batman remained in the shadows.  Robin was nearly asleep after the long night when Commissioner Gordon entered the room, five minutes later.  Jim was understandably startled, seeing a young head sitting in front of his desk.

“What’s this?  Robin?  Robin, what’s going on?”

Robin snorted as he woke up and looked around the office, holding his tongue before he could say something revealing.  “Hi, Commissioner,” Robin yawned.

Jim looked around to the shadows of the room for a minute before Batman moved into the light.  “Oh, good.  I’m glad he wasn’t picked up on some offense or another.”

Robin scrunched up his face sourly, “I don’t break laws, Commissioner.”

Gordon smiled at the young vigilante, “I’m glad to hear it.  Shouldn’t you be home, asleep, getting ready for school tomorrow?”

“No,” Robin said.

Batman thought the conversation was getting a little close to revealing identities, but he wanted to see how Robin handled it.

“No,” the Commissioner asked, “How come?”

Batman opened his mouth to cut off his son’s answer, knowing that precious few Gotham schools had let out for the summer yet, when Robin said, “I’m homeschooled.  I can do my lessons whenever.”

_Clever bird,_ Batman thought.  _Jim can search every homeschooling database in the world and never find us._

Batman walked up behind Robin as Gordon addressed him.  “I can guess why you’re here.  Frankly, I’m glad.  We need all the help we can get on this one.”

“Any leads, Commissioner,” Batman rumbled.

The older man shook his head, “None.  None of the officers have anything in common, other than their job.  Different genders, different ages, different times in service, different ethnic backgrounds, different religious backgrounds, different precincts, different job specialties.  Nothing ties them together, other than being cops.”

Batman nodded, “Then that is your connection.  Put your officers on high alert, Jim.”

“Already ahead of you on that one.  How can I help you solve this for us, Batman?”

“I don’t know yet.  Inform your officers that I will be visiting crime scenes over the next few nights.”

Gordon nodded, “They’ll let you in.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the office door flew open, and an older man wearing a police chief’s uniform rushed into the room.

“Commissioner…” the man said in an Irish-accented voice.

“Chief O’Hara, I believe you are familiar with Batman and Robin?”

The man turned and nodded at the visitors, slightly surprised at the presence of the vigilantes.  He turned back to Gordon and said, “Commissioner, it’s happened again.”

Gordon sagged back into his chair.  His hand rose to cover his eyes as his thumb and forefinger rubbed at his temples in an attempt at warding off his sudden headache.  “Who was it this time,” Jim asked in a world-weary tone.

“Patrolman Aaron Diaz, from the fourteenth precinct.  Just like the others, shot dead at his front door.”

“Damn it.  Are there any witnesses?”

O’Hara shook his head, “It’s still an active crime scene, Commissioner.  That’s all I know so far.”

Jim sighed and rose heavily, “I’m going down there.”

“I’ll see you there,” Batman rumbled.

The officers of the law heard the declaration, but when they looked for the vigilantes, the office was empty.

 

 


	5. 5

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 5

 

“How the hell did you get here before us,” Commissioner Gordon asked incredulously as he stepped out of his sedan, to see Batman investigating a spray of bullet holes in a wall.

“You’re the police commissioner; you don’t exactly have to follow the speed limit.”

“Admitting to breaking laws, Batman,” Gordon asked, coming to stand beside the vigilante.

Batman glanced over and asked, “Did you hear any sort of admission in that statement, Commissioner?”

Gordon shrugged and looked around the crime scene, “What happened to Robin?  I wouldn’t think you’d let him out of your sight at an active crime scene.”

Annoyed that he couldn’t proceed with this investigation uninterrupted, Batman growled, “As you pointed out, it’s late.  He fell asleep in the car.  Can we get this over with, so I can take him home?”

Gordon nodded, “Okay.  What does all this tell you?”

“Whoever this was didn’t care about collateral damage, or being seen.  This many holes would take a while to make.  Someone had to see something.”

Jim waved an overweight man over.  “Batman, this is Detective Bullock, my new homicide detective.  Harvey, what’s going on here?”

The fat detective glared at Batman before saying, “Time of death is approximately eleven PM.  He was found by the pizza boy, who is being questioned as we speak.  Diaz’s phone records show he did order a pizza.  I have officers canvassing neighbors for witnesses.”

A thought occurred to Batman, “Any other victims?”

Bullock shook his head, “No, Diaz is a…was a single man with no roommates.  No one else was here.”

“Hmm,” Batman turned back to look at the house.

Bullock continued, “We count forty-five holes in both the outside and inside of the house, so we figure he had to reload at least once.  He was smart; he policed his brass.  Techs will be able to tell us what kind of weapon was used, but it will take some time.”

Batman filed away the information, but said nothing.  Bullock rolled his eyes, grumbling about the presence of caped vigilantes at his crime scene, before walking away with Commissioner Gordon.  Batman was about to enter the house when he heard a small voice over his shoulder.

“That’s a _lot_ of shell casings.”

Turning, he saw Robin crouching down in a planter, next to the front steps.  He looked up as Batman approached, “Have these already been photographed?”

Batman knelt next to Robin and examined the pile of spent brass casings lying under a shrub.  “I thought you were still asleep?”

Robin shrugged, “I woke up and you weren’t there.  I came to find you, but this caught my eye.  It was shiny.”

“Why do you ask if they’ve been photographed yet?”

Robin met Batman’s eyes, “They’re evidence, right?  There isn’t one of those number thingies by them.”

Batman looked around at the crime scene and saw several yellow evidence tags, but none in their area.  “Good catch, Robin.”

Batman flagged Gordon over.  Bullock followed the older man over, and Batman said, “I thought you said the shooter policed his brass?”

“He did,” Bullock said.  The overweight flatfoot snarled when he saw what Batman pointed out, hiding under the bushes.  “Jimmy, get over here!”

A photographer hustled over at the detective’s shout.  Robin smiled as the man set out another yellow marker before taking several pictures.

Once the photographer and the detective walked away, Robin knelt again and picked up several of the spent cartridges.  He looked at them for a minute before activating his radio to talk to Batman, who was checking the planter on the other side of the steps.

“Batman, these are different.”

“What do you mean, Robin?”

Robin said, “The casings are different sizes.”

Batman thought for a second before saying, “Look at the ends.  Are there any numbers stamped there?”

“Yeah,” Robin said, turning the brass over in his hands.

“What do they say?”

Robin was quiet for a second, “These numbers are printed really small.  Let’s see.  This one says five point five-six.  This one says point two-two-three.  Another point two-two-three.  Another five point five-six.  Oh, this one says seven point six-two times thirty-nine.  Why is there a math problem on this one?”

Batman thought about the calibers as Robin continued.  “Are we looking for three shooters now, Batman?”

Batman sighed thoughtfully, “No, I don’t think so.  Two-two-three and five-five-six are close enough in size that a weapon chambered in five-five-six can shoot a two-two-three with no problems.  Seven-six-two requires a different weapon, though.”

“So, two shooters,” Robin asked.

“Possibly.  More likely one shooter with two weapons.  He would have to be pretty strong to use both at the same time, though.”

“Do we know that he used both at the same time,” Robin asked.  “Could he have used one, then switched to another?”

“That’s possible, but it would increase the shooter’s time on scene.  Meet me at the front door.”

Batman and Robin met at the front door to inspect the inside of the house.  It really wasn’t necessary to go further than the front entryway of the house.  It was obvious from the blood patterns and the bullet holes that Officer Diaz was killed at the front door.  Batman took several pictures of the front hall from the door before shaking his head.

“Come, Robin.  It’s late.  We have everything we need here.”

Batman walked with purpose out of the home and towards the Batmobile.  Robin followed in his wake, but stopped on the second step when something crackled underfoot.

“Huh?”

“What is it, Robin,” Batman asked from the foot of the stairs.

Robin looked down as he lifted his foot.  A small bundle of sticks now sat crushed on the step.  Robin sighed, realizing his potential clue was nothing.  “Nothing, Batman.  I just stepped on a stick on the step.”

The boy hurried to Batman’s side, “I’m ready,” Robin yawned.

The Bats left the scene, thinking about what they saw.

Batman pulled into the cave, to find Alfred waiting at the end of the turntable.  The canopy of the car retracted silently, and Alfred’s expression softened as he looked into the car.

“You’re a bit later than I thought you’d be, Master Batman.”

“Couldn’t be helped, Alfred,” Bruce said, pulling off the cowl and looking at what had made Alfred smile.  Robin was curled up in the passenger seat, a soft smile on his sleeping face.  Bruce handed the cowl to Alfred and gently picked up the slumbering super youth.

Dick’s arms unconsciously wrapped around Bruce’s neck as the man told Alfred, “There was another murder tonight.  We were with the Commissioner when it was called in, so we went to the scene to investigate.”

“Anything new, sir?”

Bruce shook his head in frustration, “No, it was disturbingly similar to the previous crime scenes.  Whoever this is, they have studied crime scenes.”

Alfred turned his head at the statement, “Are you thinking this…man…may be a current or former member of law enforcement?”

Bruce sighed, “Who better to know the home addresses of current officers?”

Alfred shook his head as Bruce set Dick down on a bench to change out of the Bat-suit.  “What a disturbing thought.”

“Yeah, I know.  Alfred, it’s late.  Why don’t you go up to bed?  I can tell you’re tired.  We aren’t going to do anything down here tonight, except change and go to bed.  I can handle getting Dick upstairs.  There isn’t anything down here that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

The butler gave an involuntary yawn that surprised Bruce.  “Excuse me, sir.  I believe I will take you up on your generous offer.  Leave your uniforms on the bench, I shall attend to them in the morning.”

“Good night, Alfred,” Bruce said.

“G’night, Bat-ler,” Dick mumbled in his sleep.

Alfred shook his head with a soft chuckle as he left the cave.  Bruce gently rubbed up and down on Dick’s arm, to gently awaken him.  “Hey, Chum.  Wake up.  You need to change, so we can go to bed.”

Dick stirred and started to fumble with his gloves.  They just barely came off before Dick stopped again.  Bruce smiled gently and peeled the mask off of Dick’s face, to reveal eyes closed in sleep.

“Come on, pal.  I want to go to sleep, too, but we can’t do that until you change.”

Dick held his arms up to Bruce, who shook his head, “You want me to do it?”

“Uh-huh,” Dick mumbled, possibly asleep again.

Bruce pulled the shirt up over the boy’s head, making sure to drag the cape over Dick’s face.  Still mostly asleep, Dick was shocked awake as a bundle of pajamas hit him in the face.

“Hey!”

“Come on, pal.”

“Okay,” Dick sighed, unlacing his boots.

Several minutes later, Bruce picked up the pajama clad, and once again slumbering, boy and took him upstairs.  Dick didn’t so much as twitch until Bruce was tucking him in.

“Bruce,” he questioned tiredly.

“Yeah, Chum,” Bruce whispered.

“C’n I sleep with you tonight?”

Bruce gave an unseen smile.  “Dick.”

“Yeah?”

“Dick.”

“…Yeah?”

“Dick.”

Dick eased an eye open and saw the familiar confines of the master bedroom surrounding him.  A slow smile worked its way across his face.  “Yay.  G’night, Daddy.”

Bruce softly kissed Dick’s forehead before turning off the light and laying down.  “Good night, Dickie.”

_The Next Day (Thursday)…_

Bruce pulled up to the front of Stately Wayne Manor after work to find an unexpected sight.  Dick sat on the front porch of the residence, waving at the car and smiling brightly.  Confused, Bruce stopped, climbed out of the car, and walked up the front steps to his boy.

“Dick?  Is everything okay?”

The boy hugged Bruce tightly, “Yep.  Alfred told me to wait for him out here.”

Bruce was still confused, “Out here?  Isn’t it a little hot out here?  What is going on?  You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Dick’s jaw dropped, “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I’m confused about what is going on, Dick.”

The front door of the manor opened, and Alfred walked onto the porch.  “Ah, good afternoon, Master Bruce.  I see you are just in time.”

Hoping to get less confusing answers out of his butler, Bruce asked, “In time for what?”

Alfred held up a comb and a pair of scissors and said, “I believe you have noticed the length of Master Dick’s hair lately?  He is long overdue for a trim.  If you would like, I can add you to the list of customers for the barber?”

_Oh, good.  Just a haircut.  I couldn’t imagine Dick doing something that would make Alfred mad._   Bruce ran his hand over his head and said, “Oh.  Yeah, I could probably use a trim, too.  Let me go get changed first, okay?”

Alfred nodded, “I shall start with the boy, then.”

Dick stopped Bruce before he could leave, “Why did you think I was in trouble, Bruce?”

Bruce shrugged, “You never meet me on the porch when I get home from work.  I honestly didn’t know why Alfred would ask you to wait out here.  Just covering all bases, chum.”

Alfred scoffed as Bruce entered the house, “In trouble?  Really, Master Bruce.  Master Dick has been nothing but exemplary today.”

Bruce returned to the front of the house ten minutes later to find Alfred trying to even out hair lengths on both sides of Dick’s head.  The butler sighed before grabbing hold of the boy’s head.  “Stay still, young sir.  I know you are fond of having ears on both sides of your head, but if you keep fidgeting, that might not be the case for too much longer.”

Dick giggled at the remark, “You can’t cut off my ear, Alfred.  If you did that, then I would have to take up painting, and I’m no good at that.”

A couple final snips and Alfred said, “With all due respect to Mr. Van Gogh, we shan’t need to find out the veracity of that statement today.  You are all done, Master Dick.”

Dick shook his head and rubbed his hair, his natural smile plastered on his face, “Thanks, Alfred.”  He noticed Bruce leaning against the doorframe, with a smile of his own.  “Your turn, Bruce.”

Bruce ruffled the boy’s hair on his way by to sit in the chair.  Alfred wrapped the towel around Bruce’s shoulders and began trimming.

“So, what did you two get up to today,” Bruce asked.

Dick was trying to check his haircut in his reflection in the front sitting room bay window.  “Alfred and I went grocery shopping today.”

Bruce smiled, “That’s right.  How many shopping carts did it take to get this week’s haul out to the car?”

Alfred rolled his eyes, “Just one, Master Bruce, but it was exceedingly full.  I believe I bought less for the spring luncheon, sir.”

Bruce chuckled, “Well, Wally has never been known to have the appetite of a bird, especially not our bird, and he could probably out-eat an entire flock of socialites.”

Dick smiled, “I’d like to see that, Bruce.  Can Wally come to the next party?”

“That might not be the best idea, Chum.  Would you really want to subject your friend to the society crowd?”

“You subject _me_ to the society crowd, and you’re _my_ friend.”

Bruce sighed, “Yes, but Wally isn’t going to inherit this place many, many decades down the line, when I’m gone.  You are, and with it, all the rights and privileges that go along with it, including a place in high society.”

Dick frowned deeply, “You know I don’t like it when you talk like that.”

“I know, pal, but the good news is that we don’t have to worry about that for a long time to come.  Now, tell me about the rest of your day.”

Dick looked around, “Well, there _is_ something else we should talk about, but we can’t talk about it out here.”

_He must have been working on the case today.  Why am I not surprised?_   “Alfred should be done in just a minute.  We can go discuss that after.”

“Sooner than that, sir.  You are finished.  You are both dashing and well-coifed again.”

Alfred walked into the house to retrieve a broom as Bruce brushed stray hair off of his neck.  “Do you want to go to the den or downstairs to talk?”

Dick skipped up and grabbed Bruce’s hand, “Downstairs, please.  We need visuals for this to make sense.”

_How much did he work on this case today?  Does he have a working theory already?  Whatever this is ought to be interesting, no matter what it is._

They reconvened in the cave, after Alfred promised to bring them down an afternoon snack as soon as he swept the hair off of the porch.  Dick hurried up to the computer chair, but then waited for Bruce to sit down, so he could plop himself down in the man’s lap.  Bruce smile as he hugged the boy, resting his chin on Dick’s shoulder.

“What are you working on, pal?”

Dick took a nervous breath, “Um, it probably doesn’t mean anything, and I’m probably way off, but I think something really strange was going on last night.”

“Stranger than the tenth police officer murdered in as many nights?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, nodding.  “Now, don’t think this is strange, but I think we missed a key piece of evidence last night.”

This caught Bruce’s attention, “Really?  What do you think we missed?”

Dick’s tone was bashful as he asked, “Promise you won’t think it’s strange, or a waste of time?”

Bruce took a breath, thinking _he doesn’t usually say something like that, unless he thinks his theory is really out there._   “I promise, Dick.”

Dick sighed, “Okay.  I don’t think that stick I stepped on last night was random.”

Bruce was quiet for a minute.  “The stick?  You mean the one on the step when we were leaving?”

Dick nodded slightly, “Yeah, that one.”

_Now that he mentions it, it might not be that far-fetched._   “Explain your thinking to me.”

Dick gave an unseen smile as he brought up crime scene photos.  “I thought about that stick for a while today.  It was kinda weird, it just being there.  I mean, how many police went up and down those stairs before we got there, and how many times did we go up and down those steps?  Why was I the first one to step on the stick?  It got me thinking, how did it get there?”

Dick blew up a photo on the big screen.  “This is from the police.”  The boy blushed as he admitted, “I sort of hacked their case file today.  I thought it was something you would do anyway, so I just went ahead.”

“I don’t mind, Dick.  Just as long as you were careful about it,” Bruce said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Dick smiled again, “This picture was taken at eleven-fifteen, by the first investigator on scene.  This is as close to an undisturbed crime scene photo as we have.”  Dick zoomed the picture in to focus on the short staircase leading up to the house.  “Look at these steps, Bruce.  They are clear.  There is nothing on them.”

Bruce leaned forward, as much as he could with the boy in his lap, “You’re right, pal.  There is nothing on those steps.”

Dick zoomed the picture out again to a wide shot of the front of the house.  “Look around, Bruce.  There are no trees in this picture anywhere, just the bushes on the sides of the steps.  The stick I stepped on could not have come from any of those bushes, it was too thick.”

Bruce nodded, “Where are the closest trees on the block?”

Another picture was brought into focus, this one showing a wide shot of the block.  “There is a tree across the street, and a couple three houses down in either direction on the same side of the street.  But, it wasn’t windy last night, and it would have taken a hurricane to move a stick that big, that far.”

“Or a person,” Bruce said thoughtfully.  “Are these pictures in chronological order?”

Dick nodded, “Uh-huh, but there are only four of the front of the house that show the steps.”

Bruce scrolled through all four pictures several times before he was able to see what he was looking for.  He pointed at the screen as he switched back and forth between pictures three and four.  “Look.  There is no stick in picture three, but there is a stick in picture four.”  Bruce checked the time stamps, “These pictures were taken half an hour apart.”

Dick sighed, “During that much time, you could have marched a parade through the crime scene, and never gotten them on camera.”

“But it wasn’t a parade, just thirty cops.  I think you may be on to something here, chum, and I think it coincides with a working theory that Alfred posed to me last night.”

“What theory might that be, sir,” Alfred asked as he brought a covered tray into the cave.

Bruce looked up at the butler and said, “It’s far from conclusive yet, but I think your theory that the criminal might be an officer just got a whole lot more likely.”

“Oh…goody,” Alfred said drily.

 Bruce was used to Dick bouncing and jiggling; it was his nature.  Bruce had said many times that Dick never stopped moving, not even in his sleep.  Many times had Bruce sat and watched the boy slumber, only to notice that a foot or a hand kept moving.  When Dick stopped moving, like he just did, Bruce knew that something was seriously wrong.

“Dick?  You okay?  What’s wrong?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think we have a bigger problem than just a stick appearing halfway through a crime scene investigation,” the boy whispered.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked seriously.

Dick took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  “ _If_ the stick is actually a clue to the identity of the killer, and _if_ it really did appear only after the investigation started, and _if_ we are going under the assumption that the killer is a police officer, or someone dressed up like a police officer, then that means the murderer was there last night, at the crime scene…”

Dick turned slowly to look up at Bruce, his face pale and his eyes wide, “…Watching us.”

 

**A/N: Well, what do you think so far?  We will have an unmasking of the culprit within the next few chapters, along with the motives behind the crimes.  Looking at my outline, which I wrote a little differently for this story than I have for other stories in the past, it looks like this shouldn’t go more than five or six more chapters, but you should know how well my guesses at length have worked out so far.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	6. 6

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 6

 

“Hurry up, Robin.  I’m just about ready to leave without you,” Batman called out, leaning against the Batmobile.

A minute later, Robin came pelting out of the locker room, adjusting his utility belt as he leapt and rolled over the hood of the Batmobile.  “I’m sorry, Batman, but I had to go.  I knew you weren’t going to stop at a gas station so I could pee while we’re out.”

Batman shook his head, “You’re right about that.”

Batman started the car and was rolling out of the cave before the canopy finished closing.

“So, which crime scene are we investigating first?”

Batman barely paid attention as he steered down the well-known path.  “Victim number nine, Victor Williamson.  Bring up his file and read it out.”

Robin accessed the computer link from the passenger seat as Batman hit the highway and increased speed drastically.  The Boy Wonder read over the file quickly.  “Okay, Victor Williamson, victim number nine.  Killed two nights ago.  Thirty-nine years old.  Divorced, two kids…aww, this is sad, Batman.”

Batman spared the boy a quick glance before asking, “What?”

“If I’m reading this right, according to his joint custody arrangement, he was supposed to have his kids this weekend.”

Batman just stared, so Robin quickly continued reading Batman’s case notes.  “Moving on…He was a senior patrolman with eighteen years as a policeman.  He served in the Navy before becoming a policeman.  Um…he is a Gotham native, or, was a Gotham native.  He’s a third generation officer…whoa!” Robin exclaimed after sliding in his seat as Batman took a left hand turn at sixty miles per hour.

“Robin, you have a lap belt for a reason.  Use it.”

Robin was pulling the strap over his lap as he said, “You never use _yours_.”

Batman glared at the remark, and Robin gulped, “Sorry, Batman.  Um, I don’t see anything in his file that points him out as a target.”

“Just like all the others, Robin.  I’m starting to think that the victims aren’t targeted.  The only common denominator is that they are police.  Other than that, there are absolutely no similarities in the victims.”

Robin sounded confused, “So, what does that mean?”

Batman looked grimly forward, “That the victims aren’t important, only the crimes.  It doesn’t matter which police officer is killed, at least in the mind of the killer, so long as the next dead person is a police officer.  I want you to be on the lookout for clues tonight, Robin.  Look for anything out of the ordinary.  Look for anything the police might have missed.  You seem to be better at that than the police lately.”

Batman and Robin stepped out of the Batmobile in front of a narrow Brownstone.  The only thing that distinguished it from any of the other houses on the block was the yellow police tape cordoning it off, and the officer stationed out front.  A series of bullet holes riddled the wall around the front door.

The officer approached the Caped Crusader and tipped his cap.  “Batman, Commissioner Gordon said you would probably be stopping by.”

“Has the scene been disturbed,” Batman asked.

The policeman shook his head, “The body was removed, evidence was bagged and tagged, the house was closed up, and a guard was placed.  Other than that, nothing’s been touched.”

Batman nodded and swept away from the man, towards the house.  Robin shot a smile at the officer, giving a more friendly salutation.  “Thanks, Officer…Brooks,” the boy said, reading the name from the man’s name plate.

Robin trotted up behind Batman, as the Bat inspected the bullet holes in the wall.  Not looking at the silently approaching youth, Batman said, “Check the planters; make sure the police didn’t miss anything.  I’m going to check the entryway.”

Batman opened the front door and heard Robin gasp behind him at the sight.  He couldn’t blame the boy; there was a veritable pond of dried blood in and around the chalk outline in the middle of the white tile entryway.

“Sorry, Batman,” the youth mumbled.

“Check the front, Robin,” the man said, a little gentler than usual.

Robin walked away, and Batman entered the house.  The odd shape of the outline caught the Dark Knight’s attention.  From the police report he had read, the victim was found lying on his side, facing away from the door.  Batman’s working theory was that Williamson opened the door, saw the gun, and tried to run.  The ten bullets the coroner pulled out of the man’s back seemed to support that theory.  Batman examined the holes in the wall, but nothing else seemed to stand out to him.

Returning to the front steps, Batman looked around for his little partner.  Not able to find him instantly, Batman activated his radio and called him.  “Robin?”

From the corner of his eye, a dark-haired head popped up from behind the bushes.  Batman shook his head at the smile on Robin’s face.  “What are you doing back there?”

Robin shrugged, “You told me to check the bushes.”

“Find anything?”

Robin opened his mouth, but Batman held up a hand, “If you say that you found that they need to be watered, I’m going to leave you here.”

A grimace flashed across Robin’s face for an instant before he smiled again and held up a shiny object.  “The police missed a shell casing.  Two-two-three, same brand we found last night.”

_Same brand you found last night,_ Batman thought proudly.  “Good catch.  Find anything else?”

“Yes,” Robin said, nodding, with a big smile on his face.  He held up his other hand to show, “A Frisbee.”

Batman sighed, “I don’t think that is relevant to our case, Robin.  If you have nothing else, let’s go.”

Batman descended the stairs as Robin made to move around the bushes.  He stopped when something caught his eye, sticking out from under the welcome mat.  “Oh.  Hay.”

Batman stopped and turned, “Hey, what?”

Robin shook his head, suppressing a giggle, “No, not ‘hey’,” Robin said, pulling the grass from under the edge of the mat and holding it up, “Hay.”

Batman took the hay from Robin’s hand and inspected it.  Like the boy said, it was hay.  “Where did you find this?”

“It was stuck under the welcome mat.  I don’t think I would have seen it if I wasn’t on the same level as the step.”

Batman nodded.  He hadn’t seen the grass while standing on the mat.  He said distractedly, “I guess there is a benefit for being short.”

Robin’s face fell.  “That’s not nice, Batman,” he said softly.

Batman looked back at the boy, “Huh?  Oh.  I didn’t see it from up there.  What I meant was, you needed to be down there to see it.”

_No, you didn’t,_ Robin didn’t point out.  _You know I hate being short, why would you keep pointing out that I haven’t started growing yet?_   Robin tried to let it go for now, instead saying, “We’re in the middle of the city.  There isn’t a farm or an open field around for miles.  It hasn’t been windy all week.  How did this get here?”

“It was planted here, Robin.  Wind wouldn’t put it under the door mat.”

Robin looked confused, “Is this a sign of the same killer, though?  I mean, it’s not a stick.”

The same thought was occurring to Batman, “No, it’s not a stick.”

Robin was thinking hard, “Is this guy some rogue farmer?  What kind of calling cards are twigs and hay?”

“Keep thinking about it, Robin.  If something occurs to you, let me know.”

Robin looked up at Batman critically, “Do you know something you’re not telling me, Batman?  Did you already figure this out, and you just want to see if I can figure it out?”

_I wish,_ Batman thought.  “No, Robin.  I’m just as confused as you seem to be.  I wish we had more to go on.”

Robin held his gaze for another few seconds before relenting.  “Okay, Batman.  Hey, we know the killer is connected to the other murders.  Do you think the victims are connected, too?  We’re only, like, two blocks from last night’s crime scene.”

“The thought had occurred to me.  These two victims are the only ones on the victim list that worked in the same precinct.  It’s possible they knew each other…what?”

Robin was staring past Batman, his mouth slightly open.  The boy held up his hand, pointing over Batman’s shoulder.  “Look, it’s the Bat-signal.  The Commissioner must need us!”

Batman and Robin hurried back to the car, where the communicator was chirping for attention.  The car was moving before the canopy was closed, and Batman punched the button to answer the call.

“Go ahead, Cave.”

“I tell you, he needs a name,” Robin mumbled to himself.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for five minutes, sir.  The Commissioner called.  There has been another crime.  He requested you meet him at 11208 Elmhurst Drive, the home of one Detective Philip Jordan.”

“Not another one,” Robin moaned softly.

Batman glanced at the boy quickly, wondering what kind of burden he was placing on the boy’s narrow shoulders, what kind of man he was for placing that burden there, and how he could help carry it.  “We’re on our way.”

Batman cut the connection and glanced at Robin again.  The boy was staring at his hands, folded in his lap.  “Robin, are you alright?”

Robin’s voice was quiet as he spoke, “No, Batman.  This makes eleven, and we’re no closer to finding out who is doing this than we were when we got this case.  People are dying, and we can’t stop it.”

A large hand reached over and rested gently on a much smaller hand.  “That is just how things work out sometimes, Robin.  It isn’t right, and is isn’t fair.  It’s just life.”

“It’s _not_ life,” Robin complained, “It’s death…murder.”

“This is a tough case, Robin.  One of the toughest I’ve ever had, in fact.  Our opponent is smart and resourceful.  You have to believe that we are doing everything we can to solve this.”

Robin sighed, “Why do I have to believe that?  There has to be more we can do.”

Batman shook his head lightly, “You need to believe it, otherwise you just feel like you’re spinning your wheels, and the job loses its meaning.  We do this to make the city safer for people to live in, but _you_ have to live, too.  You have to accept that we can’t stop every crime.  You can’t take it personally when something comes along that is bigger than you can handle.  I know you know that.”

Robin sighed heavily, “I do, Batman.  I just wish we had a solid lead.”

Batman was quiet for a second, knowing that his next suggestion would not be taken well.  “Robin, I’m proud of the way you are dedicating your time and effort to this case.  You’re doing excellent work.  I think you’ve made more breakthroughs in this case than I have.  I also think you are too wrapped up in this.  I think it would be for the best if you took tomorrow night off.”

As expected, the suggestion was not taken well.  Robin’s head snapped around to look at Batman so quickly that Batman expected the boy’s head to get stuck.  Robin’s jaw was sagging in disbelief as he said, “What?  No.  We can’t stop looking into this.  Whoever this is will just keep killing.  We have to find him, Batman.”

“Yes, we do, but you need to rest, too.”

Robin looked desperate, “I can rest during the day, Batman.  It’s summer, I don’t have to be anywhere.  I want to help you find him.”

Batman sighed, “I know you do, and I’m glad for that.  Isn’t Kid Flash coming tomorrow?  Wouldn’t it be nice to spend more time with your friend?”

Robin knew Batman was trying to induce him to stay home, but he wasn’t going to be dissuaded.  “Yes, he is, but he was going to patrol with us.”

“That was before we had a cop-killing serial killer on the loose.  I don’t think Flash would appreciate us taking Kid Flash up against someone like that.”

The Batmobile was pulling up in front of the address Alfred had relayed to them.  Batman said, “We’ll investigate this scene and talk more about tomorrow night later, okay?”

Robin was looking at the scene in confusion, “Okay, Batman.  Batman, why is there a SWAT team at a murder scene?  Do you think they caught the guy?”

Batman had been wondering the same thing, “That would be nice.  Let’s go.”

Batman and Robin approached a strangely bullet-free front door as Commissioner Gordon stepped onto the front porch.  “Ah, good.  You got my message.  Batman, Robin, I want you to meet Detective Philip Jordan.”

A taller man stepped out of the house warily, to the surprise of the vigilantes.  “Wait, you’re not dead,” Robin asked in surprise.

“Apparently not,” Batman said, “What happened?”

The detective looked around before saying, “Can we go inside?  I’m a little nervous out here.”

Batman looked around before nodding.  He stopped Robin at the door and said, “Robin, I want you to…”

Robin sighed dramatically, interrupting Batman, “I know, go check the bushes.  That seems to be all I get to do lately.”

Batman had to hide a smirk, “Because you keep finding things.  What I was going to say was I want you to go back to the car.”

“What?  Why?  I won’t get in the way.  I’ll just listen to what happened.”

“Robin, listen,” Batman said firmly, “I want you to go back to the car and do something for me.”

Robin looked down, “Yeah, stay out of your way.”

Batman pointed down the street, “Robin, there is a traffic camera at the end of the block.  I want you to tie into the Bat-computer and see if you can access the video.  Maybe we can see who we’re up against here.”

“Oh,” Robin said sheepishly, “Okay.  Sorry.”

Batman entered the house to find a waiting Commissioner and Detective.  “Begin,” the Dark Knight said darkly.

The detective nodded, “I wasn’t feeling very well when I got off my shift tonight.  I didn’t watch my surroundings, like I normally do.  I just hurried home.  I was in the bathroom when someone started knocking on my door.  I was in no position to answer it, so I let them knock.  Half an hour later, when I could leave the bathroom, I checked the door.  There was no one there, but when I opened the door, I found this.”

He held up an evidence bag containing a brick.  Batman looked at it critically, something pinging in the back of his mind.  There was something there, he just couldn’t put it together yet.

“Have that dusted for prints, Commissioner,” Batman asked unnecessarily, “Maybe our criminal was dumb enough to not wear gloves.”

He turned to Detective Jordan, “Let me get this straight, you are alive right now because you had the shits?”

The man blushed, “It seems that way.”

“You better thank that stomach virus.”

“I think it was more the chorizo burrito I had for lunch, but I’ll eat at that restaurant every day for the rest of my life if it turns out that I’m alive because their food didn’t agree with me.”

“You almost did,” Commissioner Gordon said as Batman left the house and returned to the car.

A shocked gasp followed the nearly silent opening of the canopy of the Batmobile.  Batman was instantly on guard as he looked around and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Robin was taking deep breaths, to try to control himself, “Nothing, you just scared me.  Usually you call to let me know you are on your way back to the car.”

Batman heard the hesitant tone in the Boy Wonder’s voice, “Is that all that’s going on?”

Robin looked down and said softly, “No, Batman.”

Batman got into the Batmobile and waited until the canopy was securely closed before asking anything further.  “Did you get access to the traffic camera?”

Robin nodded, not looking up.  “Yes.  It took me longer than I thought it would.  Probably a lot longer than it would have taken you.”

“You’re still learning, Robin.  You’ll get better and faster with practice.  What did the video show?”

Robin shook his head, “It’s still downloading to the cave computer.  I haven’t seen it yet.”

Batman nodded, leaning over to see what was on the tablet in Robin’s hands.  As he leaned in, his hand came to rest on the back of Robin’s head.  “What happened?  Why were you scared when I opened the canopy?”

Robin didn’t answer for a minute.  He wasn’t supposed to be scared in the field.  _Robin is supposed to be fearless, and brave, like Batman.  If I tell him that I’m scared, he might think I can’t handle being out here; he’ll take my mask.  He’s already trying to sideline me.  First it’s a night, then a week, then he might decide that he really doesn’t need a Robin.  What good will I be to him then?_

“Robin?”

The boy spoke softly, “I was thinking about what you and A…um, Bat…”Robin sighed, his shoulders slumping, “You know who were talking about the other day, about how our suspect might be an officer.  Then, I thought about how that stick wasn’t planted at the scene until after the investigation started last night.  There are a lot of cops here tonight, and a lot of big guns, and it got me thinking; is he here?  Is he still watching us?  How would we know if he was?  I…I got scared.”

_Jesus,_ Batman thought, _how did I not think about that when I sent him out here alone?  I think I’m scared now.  God, if anything ever happened to you, chum…_

“Fear kept you wary and on guard.  You are thinking of potential threats, and that’s good.  Let’s go home and get started on that video.  How much is downloading?”

“The last six hours,” the boy replied, “I wanted to be thorough.”

Batman nodded and started the car, “Then, we should get started.”

Back at the cave, Bruce and Dick showered and changed before tackling the traffic camera footage.  Bruce was done first, and was cueing up the tape when Alfred entered the cave.

“Good evening, sir.  I see you decided to come home at an almost reasonable hour tonight.”

Bruce glanced up quickly, “Yeah, we got some new information to work with.  There was yet another attack, as you know.  Tonight, though, no deaths.”

“Was the perpetrator caught,” Alfred asked in surprise.

Bruce shook his head, “No, he got away, but he didn’t kill anyone, and that’s the important part.”

“Quite, sir.”

Bruce glanced back at the locker room before saying quietly, “Hey, Alfred?  Can you make sure Dick does something fun while I’m at work tomorrow?  He’s getting too involved in the case.”

Alfred had noticed the same thing, and had been planning on mentioning it to Bruce after the boy had gone to bed.  “Of course, sir.  Any new information on the case tonight?”

“Possibly,” Bruce said as Dick padded up to the adults.  “Dick thinks he found another calling card at victim number nine’s house.”

“Indeed?” the butler asked, turning to the boy as he climbed up into Bruce’s lap.  “More sticks?”

Dick shook his head, “There was some hay stuck under the door mat.  I don’t know what it means, though.”

“Hay, you say?” Alfred rhymed unintentionally, earning a giggle from the child.

“A sprig of hay, Agent A.”  Dick’s eyes widened as he gasped, “That’s it!”

“What’s it,” Bruce asked.

“Alfred’s new secret name, ‘Agent A’.  You used to be some super-secret agent.  You could _still_ be a super-secret agent, for all we know.  Your name begins with ‘A’.  It’s perfect!”

Bruce and Dick looked up at the butler, who was chuckling.  “I suppose that is acceptable.  It is a far sight more tolerable than ‘The Bat-ler’, at least.”

“Yay,” Dick cheered.

Alfred couldn’t help but smile.  “Now that that is settled, did you discover anything else tonight?”

Dick shrugged, “Another shell casing, the same type we found last night.  That was all we found before we got the Bat signal.”

The computer beeped, and Bruce leaned forward to check the message.  “Looks like the traffic cam video has finished downloading.  Want to get a jump on that, Kiddo?”

Dick looked up and said, “Can you do that?  Something else just occurred to me.”

Bruce looked concerned as Dick slid out of his lap slowly.  “Tired, Kiddo?  If you want to go to bed, that’s okay.”

Dick stretched, “I am a _little_ tired, but there is one more thing I want to check on.  I can do that while you watch the surveillance footage.”

Dick walked over to the secondary monitor as Bruce said, “Okay.  Need any help?”

“Um, I don’t think so.  We have all of the crime scene photos from all of the crime scenes, right?”

Bruce nodded, “Yes.  What are you thinking?”

Dick shrugged, “I just want to see if my calling cards are actually calling cards.  If they are at all of the crime scenes, then I was right.”

They settled into work, munching on the chocolate chip cookies Alfred had brought down as a snack.  By the time they had demolished the snack, both Dick and Bruce were ready to present their findings.

Bruce gave a smile as Dick walked up to his chair.  “I know that smile, chum.  You found something.”

Dick nodded happily, “Yep, something I wasn’t expecting.  Look at this.”

Bruce stood behind Dick as he brought up a series of pictures.  Alfred edged over, interested in the find.  “Look, there is a stick on the second step in all of these pictures.  Always on the second step.  None of the houses have trees in front of them.”

“Always on the second step, you say,” Alfred asked.

“Yeah.”

“Which crime scenes are these, Dick?” Bruce asked.

Dick’s smile grew even bigger, “The even numbered victims.”

Bruce looked at the boy seriously, “Does that mean that there is hay at the odd numbered crime scenes?”

Dick was showing every tooth in his head as Bruce guessed his reveal.  “Yes,” he exclaimed giddily.  “Look here.  It’s hard to see, but once you know what to look for, it stands out.”

Bruce and Alfred leaned in to see what Dick was pointing out in the next set of pictures.

“I’ll be damned,” Bruce said.

“Excellent find, young sir.  You do have quite a knack for this.”

Dick nodded, “So, was there hay at tonight’s crime scene?”

Bruce shook his head, “No, because there was no victim, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Bruce thought for a second and said thoughtfully, “No, there was a brick left on the door mat tonight.”

Dick’s eyes widened, “You didn’t tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.  Sorry.”

“What does that mean, Bruce?”

Bruce shook his head, “I don’t know.  Let’s watch the tape and see if it sheds some light on the mystery.”

They moved to the next screen, and Bruce played the cued up clip.  The image quality was grainy and black and white, but it was still clear enough to see a dark-colored sedan stop in front of a house roughly a third of the way down the block.

Dick gasped as a man wearing a ski mask stepped from the car before pulling two rifles from the trunk.  “Those are big guns, Bruce.”

The man nodded, “Looks like an M-16 and an AK-47.  Those would match the shell casings you found.”

The man on screen was knocking on the door.  Bruce noticed that Dick was holding his breath as he watched the screen.  Bruce rested a hand on Dick’s narrow shoulder as the gunman walked back to his car after a minute and put the rifles back in the trunk.  The thwarted criminal then walked up and stomped on the edge of the bottom step, until a brick came loose.

“That’s where he got the brick,” Bruce observed as the paving stone was placed on the door mat.  Bruce sighed as he stopped the playback.  “He was wearing gloves; so much for getting a print off of the brick.  There weren’t any plates on the car that I could see, either.”

“We couldn’t see his face, with the mask on,” Dick said.

“He is definitely practiced with his weapons,” Alfred said, “You can tell by the way he was holding them.”

Bruce and Dick both stared up at the butler.  “One of these days, you are going to tell us how you know that,” Bruce said.

“Perhaps, sir,” Alfred said cryptically.

“We still don’t have enough to go on, do we, Bruce,” Dick asked dejectedly.

“We’re getting there, chum.  Finding the pattern in the calling cards was important, though.  I just wish we knew what they meant.  Come on, pal.  It’s bedtime.”

As they were leaving the cave, and Alfred was tidying up after their snack, the butler said to himself, “Straw, sticks, and bricks.”

Dick stopped and looked back at the servant, “What did you say, Alfred?”

Alfred looked up, shocked that he had been overheard.  “Nothing of importance, young sir.  I was just thinking out loud.”

Dick nodded, “Yeah, but what did you say?”

Alfred stopped and turned to the boy, “I said straw, sticks, and bricks.  His calling cards.  If I didn’t know better, I would think this man views himself as one of the three little pigs.”

Dick’s jaw fell almost to the floor, “Oh my god,” he whispered.

Bruce placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “Dick, what is it?  Talk it out, I know you’re on to something.”

Dick paced between Bruce and Alfred, “The first little pig built his house out of straw.  It didn’t protect him.  The second little pig built his house out of sticks.  He didn’t have any better luck.  The third little pig made his house out of bricks.  It saved his bacon.”

Alfred snorted at the joke that he wasn’t sure the youth had intended to make.  Bruce thought he might be getting where the line of thought was going.  “Keep going, Dick.  Which pig is he trying to be?”

Dick looked up at the man, “None.  He’s trying to be the Big Bad Wolf.”

Bruce thought for a second, “To what end, though?”

Dick shrugged, “To take out the pigs.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, “To take out the pigs,” he repeated.  “I think we can find him now.  It’ll take some work, but now we know which direction to start looking.”

Dick matched Bruce’s grim smile, “When do we get to play The Woodsman?”

Bruce shook his head, “That’s Little Red Riding Hood, Dick, but I understand the analogy.  Soon, very soon.”

 

**A/N: Starting to get down to it.  Next chapter, we will see an escalation of aggression.  The following chapter will see the unmasking of the criminal and his motives.  I hope everyone is still interested in seeing where this is going.**

**Now that this chapter is in the bag, I can finally reveal the inspiration for this story.  I felt that letting this be known before this point would have ruined the reveal.  This story popped into my mind when listening to the song Big Bad Wolf by the band In This Moment.  If you do go to listen to the song in the hopes of getting story spoilers, just be warned that I am a metalhead, and there is a fair amount of swearing in the song.  I like my music heavy, just so you know.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	7. 7

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 7

 

“Good afternoon.  Wayne residence.”

Alfred answered the ringing phone to hear a youthful gulp.

“Hi, Al…um, oops.  Sorry, I mean, hello.  Good afternoon.  Please, may I please speak with Richard Grayson?  Please?”

Alfred smiled at how flustered Wally sounded every time they spoke.  Wally seemed to think that he had to be on his best behavior at every interaction with the butler.

_It’s nice to see him make an effort to act like a little gentleman, but he is a young boy.  He needs to act like a boy._   “Hello, Mr. West.  Master Dick will be along presently.  Hold on, please.”

Alfred walked down the hall to the civilian gym, where Dick was doing his best to pummel a punching bag.  “Master Dick, if you will take a moment to cease your attack, you have a phone call.”

Dick’s head turned in the butler’s direction with a smiled plastered on his face.  He trotted over and took the phone from the smiling butler.  “Thanks, Alfred.  Hello?”

A towel was dropped over the boy’s head as Wally answered, “Hey, dude!”

“Wally!  Does this mean you’re officially out of school?”

Dick could hear the smile in the teen’s voice, “Three months, no school, starting now.”

“Yay!” Dick cheered, “So, I’ll be seeing you in a few minutes, then?  You passed your classes, I know you did.  I kinda hacked into the district computers and peeked at your grades.”

Wally’s tone changed, but Dick couldn’t quite figure out how, “Yes, I passed…wait, you did what?  That’s cool.  You know, you could have knocked my scores up a few points while you were in there.  That would have really helped me out.”

“Wally, you know I couldn’t have done that.  That would be cheating.  Anyway, Bruce caught me doing it, and made sure I didn’t change anything.”

Wally’s tone turned to one of confusion, “…But he didn’t mind that you were hacking in the first place?”

Dick shrugged, “I guess not.  So, come on, when are you coming over?”

The boy’s tone changed again.  Dick couldn’t say that he had ever heard his friend sound this way.  “That’s why I’m calling, Dick.  I’m…I can’t come over this weekend.”

Dick gave a small gasp before whispering, “What happened?  You passed your classes.  Were your grades not high enough?”

Dick now recognized the tone in Wally’s voice as guilt.  “No.  Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry are actually pretty happy with my scores.  So happy, in fact, that Aunt Iris planned a vacation for us this weekend.  Uncle Barry didn’t tell her that we already made plans, like he promised me he would.  Aunt Iris planned this for me as a ‘congratulations on getting out of middle school’ gift.  She didn’t even tell Uncle Barry that she got the tickets until last night.  They didn’t tell me until they picked me up from school today.”

Wally went into a description of his upcoming trip, and Dick made a decision.  He could be upset later that his friend wasn’t coming over for the weekend, but right now, he was going to be supportive.  He could already tell that Wally felt bad enough about the change in plans.  He wasn’t going to make it worse on his best friend.

“Well, if you can’t come here, I’m glad that you still get to do something fun.”

Wally hesitated for a second before responding, “Wait, you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“We had plans, dude.”

Dick smiled, “We have all summer, Wally.  We can have plans anytime.”

“But…what are you…”

Dick interrupted his friend, “Yes, I wish we’d found out earlier, but there is nothing we can do about it now.”

Wally’s tone fell further, “Oh, so you’re mad at Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry, then?”

Dick shook his head, surprised that he wasn’t actually mad.  “That wouldn’t change anything.  It wouldn’t solve anything, and it wouldn’t be right.  I’m looking at it the way you probably should be looking at it.  You told me about your parents, and how they treated you.  Your aunt and uncle want to spend time with you.  They _want_ to be around you.  They went out of their way to plan a special time, just for you.  I can be not happy that our plans got changed, but I’ll never be mad that your family wants you, and I’ll never stand in the way of the three of you being together.”

The line was quiet for half a minute before Wally whispered, “Dick, you are _so_ cool.  I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

Dick smiled again, “You don’t owe me anything, Wals.  Just have fun.  We can work something out for when you get back.”

Wally sighed in relief, “Thanks, Dick.  Listen, I have to go, but I’ll call you when we get back.”

The call ended, and Dick just sat back on a weight bench for a second.  For as much as he told his friend that he wasn’t mad, and didn’t hold it against him, it didn’t stop the eleven-year old from feeling sad.

Alfred walked back into the gym several minutes later to find Dick staring off into the distance.  “Shall we go and meet your guest, Master Dick?”

“He’s not coming, Alfred,” Dick said, holding out the phone, but not looking back at the butler.

Alfred took the phone before laying a hand on Dick’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry, my boy.  What happened?”

Dick gave a small sniffle, “His uncle didn’t tell his aunt that he was coming over this weekend, even though he said he would.  Iris planned a trip for this weekend as an end-of-school gift for Wally.  He _should_ spend time with his family, Alfred.  We can spend the rest of the summer together, but they paid for tickets for this weekend.”

Alfred sighed, “That is a very grown up thought, Master Dick.  Come, this weekend won’t be a total loss.  We will still…”

Dick interrupted Alfred, pushing the boundaries of propriety, “I’m not mad, Alfred.  I should be, but I’m not.  I…understand.”

Dick stood and hugged the butler tightly.  Alfred returned the hug gently.  There was really nothing else to say, so he said nothing.

After a minute, Dick shuffled back, his face still aimed down, “When is Bruce going to be home?”

Alfred winced, “I’m afraid he planned on working later this evening.  He figured that you would be so busy with your friend that you wouldn’t even notice a later arrival time.  He said something about leaving the paperwork at the office this weekend.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

Dick started to trudge out of the room, starting to feel more alone than he thought he would today.  Alfred followed the boy, deciding that there was no reason for Dick to feel the way he was feeling.

“Would you like me to call Master Bruce?  He might come home early.”

“No, Alfred,” Dick shook his head, “I don’t want him to feel sorry for me.  He’s already going to feel bad when he gets home.  He hates seeing me sad, and you know how much I like pity.”

Alfred knew full well that the worst thing anyone could do to Dick would be to take Bruce away from him.  Only slightly lower on the list was to pity the boy.  It gave him such an empty feeling inside, and Alfred would be very happy if several decades passed before he had to see Dick in that state again.

Alfred stopped the boy before he headed off for the solitude of the library.  “Well, how about you help me with dinner?”

Dick looked up, “Isn’t it a little early?  Don’t we have plenty of time, now that Bruce is coming home late?”

“Perhaps, but I was planning a much larger meal.  A little insight into what would be a more preferable smaller meal would be nice.”

Dick followed Alfred into the kitchen and found a veritable feast in the making.  “You went to a lot of trouble, Alfred,” Dick said in a small voice.

“Just putting some snacks together.  Rest assured, nothing will go to waste without Mr. West here.”

“Oh,” Dick said, watching as Alfred quickly started packing away the food.

The counters clean again, Alfred asked, “Young sir, what would you like for dinner?”

Dick thought for a second, “What did you have planned originally, Alfie?”

“I have the makings of a lasagna ready to go.”

Dick winced, “That sounds awfully big for the three of us, and it’s a little hot for that, isn’t it?”

Alfred nodded, “I _was_ planning for the large lasagna.  I may still make it for future meals and freeze it.  Let’s focus on tonight, though.”

Dick shrugged, his mood still down, “Why don’t we just do, like, a Caesar salad?”

Alfred hid his reaction as he thought, _something that doesn’t require a helper to make.  Of course he would pick something like that.  His mood must be a bit sourer than I thought._   “I believe we can make that happen.  Would you like anything in it, or with it?”

Dick thought for a second, “Maybe some chicken?”

Alfred smiled at the boy, “Chicken Caesar salad it is.”

Dick sighed, “Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Dick?”

“I know what you’re trying to do.  Thank you, but I’m not ready to be cheered up or distracted yet.  I’ll…I’ll just go wait for Bruce.  No offense, Alfred.”

Alfred sighed as Dick moped out of the kitchen.  “None taken, young sir.”  As an afterthought, Alfred followed Dick to the door of the kitchen and called out, “Where will you be, Master Dick?”

“Out front, Alfred,” Dick called over his shoulder.

_Across town…_

Bruce smiled as his home number showed up on the caller ID on his cell phone.  “Offering your resignation already, Alfred?  The boys can’t be acting that badly.”

“I’m afraid I am calling on a different matter.  Master Dick’s plans for the weekend have changed.  I’m afraid Mr. West won’t be joining us.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, “Oh, poor kiddo.  Is he okay?”

“He is a little distraught, but he is hiding it well.”

Bruce sighed, “I’ll come home now.”

Alfred spoke quickly, as he could hear Bruce putting on his suit coat.  “You will do no such thing, Master Bruce.  You will come home at your normal time, and make up an excuse as to why you are not working later.  I’m afraid I already told Master Dick of your plan to work late tonight.  He would not be too happy if he knew I had told you what to expect when you get home.”

Bruce had a suspicious thought, “Where is he?  You wouldn’t be calling me if he were standing right next to you, or somewhere where he could hear you.”

“The young sir is out front,” Alfred said.

Bruce started in shock, “He’s sitting on the porch, waiting for me, and you don’t want me to come home early?”

“He needs time, Master Bruce.  You may cuddle him within an inch of his life later, but for now, he needs to process the day’s events.”

Bruce grunted and said, “You usually know what’s best, Alfred, but I can guarantee that you are right about one thing.”

“What is that, sir,” the butler asked.

“Kiddo is getting one hell of a cuddle when I get home.”

_Later…_

Bruce was only slightly confused, and a little concerned, when he pulled up in front of Stately Wayne Manor.  Small bare feet could be seen propped up on the railing surrounding the front porch, but they didn’t move as the car stopped in front of the steps.  Barry had called Bruce while he had been driving home, to explain what happened and how it was all his fault.  Bruce didn’t disagree, but if Dick wasn’t going to be angry about it, Bruce wasn’t going to force something.

Bruce walked quietly up the front steps to find Dick sprawled out in a chair, asleep.  The boy had shed his shoes and shirt, and seemed to be soaking up the late afternoon sun.

Bruce quickly and quietly went upstairs to change.  Dick was still asleep when Bruce returned to the front of the house.  The man pulled another chair up next to Dick’s and sat and watched him sleep for a minute.  Bruce sighed contentedly at the sight before reaching over and running a finger up and down the boy’s ribs.  Dick flinched away from the tickle and opened his eyes with a light giggle.  He stretched and yawned before looking over at Bruce.

“You okay, pal,” Bruce asked.

Dick slowly stood and silently sat down in Bruce’s lap.  Cuddling into the man, Dick pulled his legs up under him as he laid his head on Bruce’s shoulder.  Bruce sighed again as he leaned back, propped his feet up on the railing, and wrapped his arms around the warm bundle in his lap.

“I am now, Daddy,” the boy breathed.

The sat in silence for a while, watching the sky gradually darken as evening approached.  Bruce leaned down and kissed the top of Dick’s head before saying, “Pal?”

Dick sighed and spoke quietly, “Alfred called you, didn’t he?”

“Would you be mad at him if I said yes,” Bruce asked with a slight wince.

Dick shook his head minutely, not wanting to move it from Bruce’s shoulder, “No.  He’s just doing his job, and looking out for us.  Besides, isn’t it kinda impossible to be mad at Alfred?”

“Probably is.  Barry called me, too.”

Dick stilled and Bruce winced, thinking _why did I say that?_   Dick said, “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

“He called after Alfred called.  He said he feels really bad about how this worked out, and offered to let us have Wally for the rest of the summer.”

The tension fled from the boy’s body, “Oh, okay.  Is it wrong that I’m mad at him?”

Bruce gave a small smile, “That all depends on how long you _stay_ mad at him.”

Dick shrugged, “It’s already starting to go away.  We can’t do anything about it at this point, right?  It’s nice, having friends and being able to see them every so often, but all I really need is you, Bruce.”

Dick slipped his arms around Bruce’s chest as the man squeezed the boy again.  “Dick, as happy as that makes me, you still need to be around your friends.  I was actually looking forward to seeing the two of you playing together this weekend.  Maybe we can try for a couple days next week?”

“That would be nice,” Dick said.

As warm as the day had been, and how tightly Bruce was cuddling him, didn’t stop Dick from shivering as a cool breeze blew across the front of the house.  Bruce looked around until he found the youth’s shirt, tossed aside to land on his discarded shoes, under the chair.  He picked it up and draped it over the boy, who sat up, put it back on, and resumed his cuddling.

Bruce chuckled, “I take it you aren’t ready to go in yet?”

Dick turned to snuggle his face into Bruce’s neck, “Comfy, Daddy.”

Bruce felt his heart melting just a bit as he smiled at his child.  _I know he’s just playing it up right now, and he’s really okay, but he is really good at looking pathetic.  Why is it absolutely impossible to not love this kid?_

“I know you are, kiddo.  Believe me, so am I, but it’s almost…”

Bruce trailed off as the front door opened and Alfred stepped out on to the front porch.  Instantly, a smile broke through the butler’s usual calm.  Had both of his charges been asleep, he would have started snapping pictures.  Instead, he just approached quietly.

“I believe it’s dinner time, chum.”

Dick turned his head without lifting it from Bruce’s shoulder, “Is it dinner time, Alfie?”

_He is being heart-meltingly cute right now.  I don’t know how Master Bruce finds the strength to go to work when the boy is like this_.  “It is, young sir.”

Dick popped up from Bruce’s lap, missing the disappointed look on the man’s face at the cold spot left in the child’s wake.  The boy trotted over and engulfed Alfred in a hug, “Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred saw no harm in returning the hug, and was rewarded with a contented sigh from the boy.  “It is just a salad, child.”

Dick looked up and said, “Not for that, although I’m looking forward to that.  You called Bruce, so I didn’t have to explain today to him.”

Bruce smiled at Alfred as Dick picked up his shoes and took them inside to the hall closet.  Bruce followed him inside and asked, “We’re having a salad for dinner?”

Dick nodded, his mood far better than it had been a couple hours ago, “Yep, chicken Caesar.  It sounded good earlier, when we had to change tonight’s menu.”

“That _does_ sound good, pal.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, entering the dining room with two plates, “Because there is plenty for seconds, or even thirds, if you are so inclined.”

That caught Bruce’s attention.  _Thirds?  Alfred must be concerned with Dick’s weight again._   Dick had never met a standardized weight goal set out by CPS in the three years since Bruce had taken him in.  Every check-up meant a couple weeks of nervousness in the manor leading up to the appointment.  _Now that I think about it, his annual physical should be coming up soon._

Dick looked up from the salad, in which he had already made a sizeable dent, and voiced Bruce’s silent concern.  “Did he say thirds?”

“Yeah, Dickie, he did.”

Dick groaned, “That means my doctor’s appointment is coming up soon, doesn’t it?”

Bruce smiled, reaching over to ruffle Dick’s hair, “It should be in the next couple weeks.”

Dick’s eyes widened, “A couple weeks?  I must be _really_ underweight, if he’s starting to stuff me this early.”

Bruce sighed, “Dick, look at me,” Dick met Bruce’s eyes, “You will probably never meet the standardized weight goals that CPS sets out for you, but that’s okay.”

Dick looked confused, “It is?  Why?”

“Because you’re healthy.  Leslie loves you, Dick.  Don’t you think she would be the first one to speak up if she thought you were malnourished, or being abused in any way?”

“No,” Dick said immediately, “Alfred would.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, “The point is, she knows how you are being cared for.  She has had enough of Alfred’s dinners to know that there is no chance of you going hungry.  She knows that I would do anything to keep you safe.  Yes, she knows what we do at night, but she also understands both why that is necessary and how protective of you I am during those activities.  She would also never mention them in any situation that would give us away.”

Dick nodded slowly, “Okay, Bruce.  I trust you.”

Bruce eyed the boy, “You know, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.  You’ve grown a bit this year.”

“Yeah, but will it be enough?”

“You’ve gotten a lot stronger this year.  Muscle weighs more than fat, and you are pretty much solid muscle.  I think you’ve gained more than you think.”

“I hope so,” Dick said as Alfred brought two glasses of milk into the dining room.  Unable to stand not knowing, Dick turned to Alfred and asked, “Alfred, when is my check-up with Dr. Leslie?”

The butler was surprised at the question, but knew not to try any subterfuge.  “Your appointment for your annual physical is scheduled for Tuesday.  You aren’t concerned, are you?”

“Just the same concern we have every year,” Dick grumbled.

Alfred placed a hand comfortingly on the youth’s shoulder, “Come now, you are perfectly healthy.  You should have no fear of a simple trip to the pediatrician.”

“That’s easy for you to say.  You’re not the one who will have to get whatever shot she thinks I need this time.  I hate needles.”

Alfred smirked, remembering past check-ups with the boy.  “Yes, I remember, but you are very brave, and can handle whatever the good doctor has in store for you.”

Dick looked up slyly, “Alfred, I think, just in case, to make sure my weight is closer to the goal, we should have extra cookies after patrol.  Just until my check-up.”

“If you think that would help, young sir,” Alfred said with a wink as he walked out of the dining room. 

Bruce just stared in astonishment as Dick pumped his fist and hissed, “Yes!”

As the meal wound down, Bruce said, “Hey, kiddo.  I know this probably isn’t a good topic, but I never heard why Wally didn’t come over.  I heard it was some wonderful trip, but I didn’t hear what it was.”

Dick looked up from the strawberry shortcake Alfred had made for dessert and said, “Oh.  Well, Wally is a baseball fan.  I don’t know what he sees in it, but he likes it.  Um…I forgot the name of the team, but his favorite team is the one from St. Louis.  His aunt surprised him with tickets to their game tomorrow, as an end of school gift.  They are flying to St. Louis to see the game.”

Bruce shrugged, “I can see how that would be a good gift for a sports fan.”

Dick was looking thoughtful, “Come to think of it, you got _yourself_ a gift on _my_ last day of school.”

“A gift that could be yours, whenever you want it,” Bruce said with a chuckle.

“A gift that I can’t properly use for another five years, until I get my license.”

“Are you angling for something, Dick?”

Dick’s eyes widened, “No, of course not.  I was just wondering how that worked out.  Anyway, you gave me a whole weekend.  That’s better than anything you could have bought me.”

Their eyes locked for close to a minute before Bruce relented, “If you’re sure…”

Dick nodded, “I am.  You know I’ll tell you if I want something.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bruce grumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been three years,” Bruce said, “I can’t remember the last time you said you wanted something, and didn’t start acting weird when I actually bought it.”

Dick shrugged, “You buy me so much as it is, I don’t need anything extra.  Anyway, I would much rather be around people than things.”

Bruce sent Dick a warm smile.  “I think we would all rather be around you, too.  So tell me, what did you do today?  Make any more breakthroughs in the case?”

Dick shook his head with a soft smile, “You told me to take the day off, remember?  I didn’t even go to the cave today.  I was really excited for Wally coming over earlier.  I cleaned up my room.  I straightened up the game room and the den…”

“We have a butler for a reason, you know.”

“I know, but this was for _my_ friend.  I could help out.  I wasn’t really doing anything else.  After that, I had a couple hours to kill, so I went to the gym.”

“The civilian gym,” Bruce asked.

“Yeah.  I had a lot of energy to burn off, so I ran on the treadmill for, like, an hour.  Then I used that exercise bike for a while.  Then I was practicing strikes on a punching bag.”

Bruce looked at his boy strangely, “How can you have so much energy, after all that?”

Dick blushed slightly, “Well, I took a nap on the front porch after I got off the phone with Wally, until you got home.”

“Why the front porch,” Bruce asked curiously, “I would think the deck chairs around the pool would be more comfortable than where I found you.”

“Probably,” Dick agreed, “but I didn’t actually go out there to take a nap.  That’s just what ended up happening while I was waiting for you.  I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you got home, and the first one to see you.”

Bruce gave a soft smile, “I have to tell you, despite the circumstances, that was the best homecoming time I can remember.”

Dick looked down, slightly embarrassed, “It wasn’t anything special, Bruce.  I just love you.”

Bruce looked down, expecting to see his heart dribbling out of his shirt sleeve, with as much as it was melting today.  He whispered, just loud enough for the boy to hear, “That’s what makes it special, pal.”

Dick was about to slide into Bruce lap again when the man stood.  Bruce took Dick’s hand and led him to the recliner in the den.  They leaned back together, Dick sighing contentedly as fingers carded relaxingly through his hair.

“You said you were working on strikes today?”

Dick nodded gently, his eyes slipping closed, “Yeah, for an hour or so.”

Bruce picked up the hand that lay on his chest and looked closely at the knuckles.  Faint bruising and abrasions could be found on the delicate flesh.  Bruce winced, “You should have worn gloves, kiddo.  Make sure to let me know if that gets sore.”

“Okay, Dad,” Dick said tiredly.

“You’re pretty good at striking already,” Bruce said softly, “Why the extra practice?”

Bruce was expecting Dick to say that he had been bored, but the boy surprised him.  “We’re going to be going up against this Big Bad Wolf soon, and I bet he isn’t going down without a fight.  He isn’t just killing police officers, he’s breaking up families.  That’s not okay.  If we fight him, and I get a chance to hit him, I want to make sure he feels it.”

Dick’s eyes had slipped closed again, and Bruce slightly repositioned the child in his arms.  “That’s my boy,” Bruce whispered, “Sleep, Dickie.”

Twenty minutes later, Bruce was awoken from his light doze when Alfred draped a blanket over his charges.

“Alfred?”

“No problems, sir,” the butler said softly, “Just wanted to make sure you two were warm enough.”

Bruce checked his watch and said quietly, “Can you wake us up in an hour,” Bruce trailed off as Dick dug his face into Bruce’s side in his sleep, “…an hour and a half, to get ready for patrol?”

“Certainly, sir.”  Alfred turned to leave the room, but turned back and whispered in Bruce’s ear, “Bruce, I must point out that Master Dick seems to be just as happy as he would have been if Mr. West had been able to join us.  He really is telling you the truth when he says that you are all he needs, and I couldn’t be prouder of you for making him feel that way.”

Alfred only had to endure a light glare after Bruce found out that Alfred let him sleep for two hours.  Only the increased level of cuteness that Dick was emitting like radiation could distract Bruce.  Surrogate father and son made their way down to the cave to prepare for their night’s activities hand in hand.  Bruce went to the computer to bring up the investigation file.

Walking on his hands while waiting, Dick asked from his inverted position, “Which victim are we looking into tonight, Bruce?”

“I was thinking victim number eight, chum.”

Dick flipped back to his feet and approached the chair, “Is that even necessary anymore?  I mean, we proved last night that all of the murders were done by the same guy.”

Bruce shrugged, “I suppose you’re right.  We can do a normal patrol tonight, then.”

Dick opened his mouth to reply when the Bat Phone started ringing.  Bruce gestured for Dick to stay quiet as Batman entered his voice.  “Commissioner, what is it?”

A different voice surprised Bruce, “Batman, this is Chief O’Hara.  The commissioner told me to call.”

“Was there another murder, Chief?”

Dick gasped behind Bruce as the officer replied, “There was an attack.  The victim survived, and is in surgery at Gotham General Hospital.  He even got a shot off at the attacker.”

“Is the officer going to live,” Batman asked.

O’Hara’s voice was strained as he said, “God, I hope so.  The Commissioner asked for you personally.”

Bruce nodded, “We’ll be there soon.  Who is the victim, Chief O’Hara?”

The man took a labored breath before replying, “Commissioner James Gordon.”

Bruce was silent for a minute before growling, “We’ll be right there.”

Bruce slowly hung up the phone as Dick stared at his back.  “Bruce?  What happened?  You’re scaring me.”

Bruce turned and looked at Dick.  Batman’s tone remained in his voice as he said, “Get dressed.  We leave immediately.”

Dick had to jog to keep up with the man, “There was another shooting, wasn’t there?  You said the officer survived, why the rush?”

“It was Commissioner Gordon.”

Dick stopped in his tracks, both hands covering the gasp that shot out of his mouth.  A second later, Dick was running past Bruce into the locker room, peeling off his day clothes as he went.

Seven minutes later, the Batmobile tore out of the cave, heading for the home of the police commissioner.  Not wanting to press, but needing information, Robin asked, “If the Commissioner is the victim, then who called?  I thought the Commissioner was the only one with access to the Bat-phone?”

Batman shook his head, “The phone line is in his office, so technically anyone in his office can use it.”

Robin’s jaw dropped, “Isn’t that dangerous?  To have a direct link to us just lying around?”

“Gordon is a careful man.  Not even his secretary knows of the line’s existence.  If he told Chief O’Hara, then the man must be trustworthy.”

Robin thought for a second, “Was the Commissioner attacked in his home?”

“Yes.”

“Why did he open his door?” Robin asked in confusion.  “Didn’t he order his officers not to answer their doors?  Why wouldn’t he follow his own orders?”

Batman huffed angrily, “We’ll find out when we get there.”

The Batmobile screeched to a halt amongst a veritable army of detectives and SWAT officers.  The sea of humanity surrounding the Commissioner’s North Gotham home split as Batman and Robin strode with purpose into the house.

Just inside the front door, Batman turned to Robin.  “Robin…”

Robin looked up strangely and interrupted, “Really?  Check the front?  Again?”

“No,” Batman said quietly, “You don’t leave the house without me.  There are too many unfamiliar officers out front.  We aren’t taking any chances tonight.”

“Chief O’Hara,” Batman growled as he ghosted up behind the officer.

The man started in shock before turning around, “Oh, Batman.  Thank god you’re here.”

“How did this happen?  Gordon ordered his officers not to open their doors for anyone.  Why did he break his own rule?”

O’Hara shook his head, “I don’t know, Batman.  I wasn’t able to get much of a statement out of him before he was taken to the hospital.  He did say that he knew it was the killer, and he tried to stop him.”

Batman shook his head, “What was he thinking?  He knew that the man would go away if he didn’t open the door.  We found that out last night.  He could have called for back-up.  There is always a patrol within a mile or two of his residence.”

O’Hara looked up suspiciously.  “Yes, Commissioner Gordon knows that.  I’m more interested in how you know that?”

Batman glared at the question, “Do you honestly think I can do what I do without some knowledge of police procedures?”

“I suppose not,” O’Hara conceded.

“What is your next procedure,” Batman asked.

“The Commissioner is in surgery now.  He will have twenty-four hour guards on him as soon as he is out of surgery.  The family will be moved to a safe house soon.  We got a description of the getaway vehicle and the direction of travel.  An APB has been issued, and all shifts of officers have been called in.  He won’t get away from us this time.”

Batman considered his own options, and decided it was prudent to let O’Hara in on something.  He spoke quietly to the man.  “Chief, calling off-duty officers in might not be the safest course of action.  Given the evidence uncovered so far, I am operating under the assumption that the gunman is either a current officer, or a former officer with connections inside the department.”

Chief O’Hara stilled and stared at Batman, “That is quite a loaded accusation, Batman.  How can you justify it?”

“Who else would be able to find home addresses for officers?  Who else would know where the Commissioner lives?  Also, Robin has found several similarities at the crime scenes.  There is some planted evidence that didn’t show up until during the investigations.”

“ _Planted_ evidence, Batman?”

“A calling card, of sorts.  They only show up in later crime scene photos, indicating that the perpetrator is able to blend in with officers.”

O’Hara looked horrified, “How did we miss something like that?”

Batman shook his head, “It wasn’t easy to spot, and even harder to believe.”

“Do you have an identity of the killer?”

“Not yet,” frustration tinged Batman’s voice, “We’re still working on that.  Hopefully, Commissioner Gordon got a good look at the shooter, and can tell us more when he gets out of surgery.”

O’Hara nodded, “Okay.  For now, we’ll lock down the scene and move the family.  Thank you for the insight, Batman.”

Batman nodded once, then turned to leave, before stopping in his tracks, his head swiveling.  _Where’s Robin?_

_Meanwhile…_

Robin looked around the entryway of the Commissioner’s house as Batman spoke to Chief O’Hara.  _This is weird,_ he thought.  _We should be talking to the Commissioner in his office, not about the Commissioner in his home.  When is all this going to be over, so I can finally tell Batman how much all of this scares me?_

Robin heard a sniffle and a soft sob come from the hallway to his right.  Needing something to investigate, Robin turned down the hallway, slowly approaching the sound.  _Batman won’t mind; he’ll be happy that I’m looking into something on my own._

Robin gasped softly as he saw the source of the noise.  A young girl sat curled up in the darkest corner of the hallway.  Her legs were pulled up to her chest under her nightgown, and she had her face buried against her knees.  Long red hair covered her head, making it impossible for Robin to tell where the girl was looking.  _Gordon has a daughter, this must be her.  What did he say her name was?  Becky?  Beatrice?  No, Barbara.  That’s it, Barbara._

“Are you okay,” Robin asked softly.

Despite how gently the question was asked, the unexpected voice still startled Barbara.  She gasped and looked up sharply.  She wasn’t expecting to see a skinny, costumed boy, roughly her own age.

“Who are you,” she asked, unable to hide the nerves in her voice, “What do you want?”

Robin had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out his real name as he crouched down in front of her, keeping his hands visible and himself safely out of reach.  “I’m Robin.”

“ _You’re_ Robin?  Dad’s talked about you, but I didn’t realize you were so…young.”

_We’re probably close to the same age,_ Robin thought, _but I’m so short that you’d never know it._   “You never answered my question.  Are you okay?”

“You never answered _my_ question,” she shot back, “Why are you here?”

“I think you know why Batman and I are here.  We’re trying to find the man who shot your dad.”

Barbara nodded, “Okay.  Why are you _here_?”

Robin blushed a bit, “I…I heard you crying.  I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Barbara looked down and spoke quietly, “It was scary, Robin.  Dad said to hide, then there were all these shots.  It was really loud.”

Robin’s eyes widened under his mask, “Wait, did you see what happened?”

Barbara nodded, “Yeah.  Dad told me to hide, but I could still see the door.”

Robin swallowed nervously, “Did you see the shooter?  Could you tell me what he looks like?”

Barbara looked up, “Will it help?”

“Are you kidding?   You might be the first person who has seen this guy!  If we can get a good description, we will be one step closer to catching him.”

Barbara stood and motioned down the hall, “Come on, I’ll tell you everything I saw.”

_Meanwhile…_

Batman stalked to the front of the house and looked out of the front door at the mass of people.  Robin was not easily visible.  _Damn it, I told him to stay in the house.  Why would he disappear like this?_

Returning to the entryway, Batman examined a series of bullet holes in the wall. _I wonder where Gordon’s wife and daughter were during all this.  I can’t imagine him opening the door with them in the room, especially since O’Hara said Gordon knew who was knocking.  O’Hara said they questioned the wife and she didn’t see anything._

Batman walked past the side hallway and heard a light giggle.  _That must be the daughter…wait.  Robin better not be playing around during an investigation.  She shouldn’t be laughing after her father was shot.  The only person I know of who can make someone laugh like that at a time like this is Robin._

“That’s really good, Barbara.  This is going to be a huge help,” Robin said.

Barbara looked up and gasped deeply as Batman stood in her door.  Batman looked through the bedroom door to find Robin and Barbara sitting at a small table.  Robin was putting a folded piece of paper into a pouch in his utility belt as Batman growled, “Robin, what are you doing?  This is no time to be playing around.”

Robin looked up and saw an unexpected look on Batman’s face.  “Batman, I was just…”

“We’re leaving, Robin.  Let’s go,” Batman snapped.

Robin stood and said, “Thanks for everything, Barbara.  You’ve been super helpful.”

Robin started to walk out of the room, following Batman, when Barbara said, “See you around, Robin.”

Robin turned back with a bright smile on his face, “Really?  Where?”

“Don’t we go to the same school?  Come and find me on Monday.”

Robin’s face fell, “That won’t work out.  We don’t go to the same school.”

Barbara looked at him carefully, “You don’t even know where I go to school.”

“No, but I know where I go to school, and I definitely would have noticed you.”

Barbara blushed and looked up in disbelief, “Are you trying to tell me that you _don’t_ go to Denton Middle School?”

Robin shook his head slowly, “Never heard of it.  Why, is there someone there that looks like me?”

Barbara shrugged, “No one wears a mask to classes, but…maybe?”

“Robin,” Batman barked.

Robin jumped and said, “I’m homeschooled,” before scurrying out of the house.

Batman waited until they were halfway back to the cave before he started questioning Robin in a low voice.  “Would you care to explain what you were doing?”

Robin turned to see the solid line of Batman’s mouth.  _Oh, I think I’m in trouble.  I shouldn’t be, though.  He didn’t tell me to do anything but stay in the house._   “I was investigating, Batman.”

“Investigating what,” Batman snapped, “The Commissioner’s daughter?  I told you to stay with me.”

Robin shook his head, “You told me to stay in the house.  You didn’t say anything about staying with you.”

Batman opened his mouth to retort, when he realized Robin was right.  _He’s right, I didn’t actually say to stay with me._ “It should have been implied, while at an active crime scene.  Why were you alone in her room?”

Robin cocked his head, “What are you thinking, Batman?”

“You’re too young to be alone with a girl in her room, Robin.”

Robin’s jaw fell, “Are you serious?  We were investigating her father’s shooting.  Barbara is a pretty girl, but I’m not going to hit on her while her father is in surgery and I’m in uniform.  We were talking about the case.”

Batman shook his head, “What more could she tell you?  The police already interviewed her.  She didn’t know anything.”

Robin smiled at his mentor, “Wrong.  The police _didn’t_ talk to her.  Her mother wouldn’t allow it.”

Batman seemed confused, “…But she let you talk to her?”

Robin shook his head, “I don’t think she knows.”

“What did she tell you,” Batman asked, almost eagerly.

Robin’s smile lit up the inside of the Batmobile, “Everything.  Batman, she saw _everything_!”

The ends of Batman’s lips started to curl up, “Describe ‘everything’.”

Robin reached over and grabbed Batman’s forearm, “She saw our shooter, without his ski mask on!”

Batman nearly swerved off the road, “I think you had better start from the top.”

The Batmobile pulled into the cave, and Batman and Robin walked over to the computer to sit down.  Robin peeled off his mask as he said, “While you were talking to Chief O’Hara, I heard something from the hall.  When I went to see what it was, I found Barbara, crying.  I’ve cried about my parents enough to know that the last thing she needed was to be alone right then, so I tried to talk to her.  I don’t think she expected _me_ , or someone her own age, but she talked to me.  She hid in the hall during the shooting, but was close enough to see everything.  Commissioner Gordon started shooting almost as soon as he opened the door.  He hit the guy four times, but only one seemed to hurt the guy.”

Bruce nodded, having taken off his cowl and cape, “He was probably wearing a bulletproof vest.”

Dick nodded, “Barbara said the guy was hit in the arm.  The Commissioner was wearing his vest, too.  He got hit in the side; the bullet must have missed the plates in the vest.  The shooter ran off.  He must have thought he got Commissioner Gordon when he fell over.  Barbara is the one who called the police.”

Bruce was leaning forward now, “And the shooter?  She saw the shooter?  She got enough detail to give a description?”

Dick reached into his utility belt and pulled out the piece of paper Bruce had seen him putting away when he found the kids together.  “It’s not the most descriptive description, but then again, it’s not like she’s ever going to become some Bat-Girl, or Bat-Woman, or something.  Let’s see, a little taller than Commissioner Gordon, maybe three or four inches.  Short brown hair with a receding hairline.  Round face with a flat nose.  Green eyes.  He was missing a front bottom tooth.  Light complexion.  And here’s the kicker, he has a deep, vertical scar on the right side of his face.  It starts mid-cheek, runs down past his jaw, and stops about an inch above his collarbone.”

Bruce sat back and soaked in the details, a slow smile working its way onto his face.  He felt like he had just been thrown a rope while standing at the bottom of a deep pit.  After a minute of thought, he brought up a program on the Bat-computer.  He pulled Dick over to sit in his lap as he turned them both to face the screen.  “Read it to me again, slowly,” he whispered in the boy’s ear.

There was a smile on Dick’s face as he complied.  Bruce entered the details into the computer program, to search for similarities to known felons.

He set the program to scan the criminal databases when Dick said, “Oh, yeah.  I forgot to write this down, but Barbara said he spoke.  All he said was, ‘Remember me’, but he had some strange accent.”

Bruce cocked his head in thought, “Strange how?”

“She said she couldn’t place it, but it was thick.  Her best guess was maybe Eastern European.”

Bruce adjusted the program before leaning back, his arms around Dick’s stomach.  “This might just be enough to find our shooter.”

“It all came down to an observant, smart, pretty girl,” Dick said.

Bruce tried and failed to hide his grunt.  Dick caught it anyway, “Bruce, am I in trouble?”

“You’ve pointed out that you find Barbara Gordon attractive three times in the last hour and a half.  I know you are a growing boy, who is approaching that special, horrifying time of life, but don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?”

Dick leaned back, “Come on, Bruce, when am I _ever_ going to see her again?  What did I do wrong?  We sat at a table so I could write down the suspect description.  It’s not like we were holding hands or sitting on her bed.  It was just an eyewitness interview.  Does it really matter that I happen to find her pretty?”  Dick sighed, “Anyway, she met Robin, not Dick.  She probably doesn’t even know Dick exists.”

Bruce nodded, “And we have to keep it that way, pal.  It’s just safer that way.  I’m sorry, but do me a favor.”

Dick turned his head to look at Bruce, “What?”

Bruce took a second before he sighed and stood up.  “This criminal scan is probably going to take all night.  Let’s get changed and go to bed.”

Dick nodded as they headed for the locker room, “Okay, but what’s the favor?”

Bruce laid a hand on Dick’s back, between his shoulder blades, “Don’t grow up too fast.  You’ve grown so much in the short time I’ve had you.  I just got used to having my little boy, I want to keep him around a little longer.”

Dick gave a small smile, “I’m not going anywhere, Daddy.”

 

**A/N:  Well, we’re getting closer to the criminal, and uncovering the motive.  Believe it or not, we really only have about three or four chapters to go in this story.  The next chapter will probably be shorter than this one, but it will be just as important.**

**If anyone is wondering, Chief O’Hara was a character in the 1966 Adam West Batman.  I needed another top-level cop, and he fit the bill for this chapter.**

**Also, yes, those are in-jokes, making fun of other stories I’ve written.  If you know what I’m talking about, then you’ve read my other stories.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	8. 8

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 8

 

“Hey, where’s kiddo?”

Alfred was startled by the man’s voice behind him as he was emptying the dishwasher after lunch.  Bruce and Dick had spent the morning playing around in the swimming pool, and Alfred had been inclined to sit and watch for an hour or so, as he found himself with very little to do following breakfast.  It warmed the butler’s heart to see his charges so thoroughly enjoying each other, with nothing more dangerous happening than the occasional dive back into the pool.  Growing sentimental, Alfred allowed himself to believe that he was watching his own son and grandson at play, not his employer and a ward.  The thought was here and gone just as quickly, but it was enough for him.

As always seemed to happen, life intruded into their serene moment.  Bruce received a call from Lucius as they were drying off for lunch.  He promised to keep the call short, but Dick resigned himself to eating his mid-day meal alone, knowing Bruce’s work obligations.

Alfred pulled Bruce’s sandwich from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter.  “Did you put the business world back on the right path,” Alfred asked.

Bruce shrugged with a wince, “For the next few minutes, at least.”

Alfred looked up, “Has an ongoing problem arisen, Master Bruce?”

Bruce swallowed a big bite of his sandwich, “It’s not really a new problem, but one that seems to be getting worse.”

Alfred looked sternly at Bruce and said, “You are _not_ working this weekend, young man.  I let you get away with the one phone call, but you will _not_ leave that boy alone while you do paperwork.”

Bruce tried to calm Alfred with a smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t intend to, and I told Lucius as much.  He just wanted to discuss the contracting department.”

“Problems?”

Bruce sighed, “Yeah.  We lost another contract on Friday, because Contracting isn’t getting the job done.  They just aren’t closers, Alfred.  The board is getting nervous.  This is the third sizeable contract lost this year, directly due to how the people in contracting are doing their jobs.”

Alfred leaned against the counter and asked, “What can be done, Master Bruce?”

Bruce finished his sandwich before saying, “The entire department is being put on notice on Monday.  Shape up or ship out.  We are going to start looking for some actual ‘people’ persons, too.  I need people who can charm the good deals out of reluctant businessmen.”

Alfred smiled at the man, “How long can the position stay open, sir?”

Bruce shook his head, “Not too long.  Why, do you know someone?”

Alfred’s smile grew, “I’m surprised you don’t see it, Master Bruce.  You have perfectly described Master Dick.”

Bruce snorted a laugh, “Yeah, I guess I have, but I can’t just not have a contracting department for the next six years.  Contracting, huh?  I always saw Dick going into R&D, or product development.  Something that can use that natural curiosity of his.”

Alfred nodded, “Yes, I can see him in any of those positions.  So many opportunities for one such as him.”

Bruce’s face paled slightly, “Can we talk about something other than Dick growing up, Alfred?”

Alfred caught the change in Bruce’s pallor, “Certainly, sir.  What brought this on?”

“It’s just been hitting me recently, how quickly he’s growing up.  I feel like he’s slipping away from me, Alfred.  I don’t want to lose my little boy.”

“You’re hardly losing him, sir.  Master Dick will be at your side for years to come.”

Bruce looked down at his hands, “Did I tell you that he has started expressing an interest in girls?”

Alfred leaned forward, a hint of a smile on his face, “No, sir.  You failed to mention that.”

Bruce nodded, “He mentioned something when I picked him up from school last week.  Then, last night, he made multiple mentions of how he finds Commissioner Gordon’s daughter to be ‘pretty’.”

The hint blossomed into a full smile on the butler’s face.  “Well, that is to be expected, at his age.”

Bruce stood again, “I know, Alfred, but he’s growing up a little too fast for my taste.”

Alfred walked around the kitchen island and placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.  “You will find, Master Bruce, that children have a tendency to grow up faster than their parents would like.”

Bruce took a deep breath and patted the hand on his shoulder, “I’m starting to learn that.  Where did he go after lunch?  I haven’t hugged him enough today.”

Bruce followed Alfred’s directions and found himself heading for the den.  He found Dick curled up on the couch, the television remote in his hand.  Bruce looked curiously at the boy and thought, _since when does kiddo choose to watch television?  He’ll watch it if he’s cuddling with me, but I don’t think he has ever watched it on his own._

Bruce sat on the end of the couch.  Dick slowly uncurled himself before crawling over and laying his head on Bruce’s leg.  A hand slowly stroked up and down Dick’s arm, and even though Bruce had come into the room to talk to his boy, he found that he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

As the commercials dragged on, Bruce finally said, “You don’t usually watch TV, pal.  What’s up?”

Dick shrugged, “Something I wanted to see.”

The program came back on, and Bruce smiled as he saw a baseball game on the screen.  “Ah, I see.”

“I wanted to see if I could see what Wally sees in this.”

Bruce grinned down at his boy, “You wanted to see what Wally sees in baseball, or you hoped to see Wally?”

Bruce could feel the smile on Dick’s face, “A little of both.”

Bruce patted Dick’s shoulder, “Well, with his hair, he will be hard to miss.”

In the background of the game, a trio of fans shuffled to their seats behind home plate and sat down.  Dick sat up, his jaw dropping as his friend made his television debut.  “Wally said they had really good seats; he wasn’t kidding.  You’re right, his hair looks even brighter on TV.”

The family was followed by a waiter, who delivered a tray of hot dogs, a few minutes after the family of incognito speedsters sat down.  Bruce chuckled, “Well, I guess that confirms that it is really them.  They probably made that vendor very happy.  _Really_ subtle, Barry.”

Bruce and Dick watched in silence for a while.  They had both seen the Flashes eat before, and neither were surprised when the hot dogs were demolished in just an inning and a half.  Bruce couldn’t quite describe his feelings as he watched Barry and Wally interacting in the background of the game.

_Look at that.  They are happy.  I don’t think I’ve ever smiled the way Barry is smiling, even when Kiddo is trying his hardest to make me smile.  Dick is naturally happy, but there is something different about the way Barry and Wally look right now._

Dick sighed from Bruce’s lap, a brilliant smile on his face.  “I’m glad he’s having fun, Bruce,” Dick said softly.

“Yeah?  They do look like they’re enjoying themselves.  You would think they are a real family.”

Dick looked up, his smile dimming a bit, “They _are_ a family, Bruce.”

Barry threw an arm around Wally’s shoulders on screen.  “You know what I mean, Dick.  We are probably the only people watching this game who have any reason to suspect that they are not father and son.”

Bruce sighed heavily.  Dick leaned against Bruce’s side and asked, “What’re you thinking about, Bruce?”

Bruce sighed again.  “Just wondering if I’m being fair to you.  Barry takes _his_ kid to the ball game.  I take _you_ to society parties and museum galas.”

Dick looked up again, “And?  I don’t necessarily _want_ to go to a ball game.  I just want to be with you.  We don’t have to do anything special.”

Bruce shook his head, “That’s the thing, though.  It didn’t even occur to me to try to plan something special, or some sort of gift, for your end of school.  You mean so much to me, it’s just rather glaring how little I take advantage of you being here.”

Dick slid into Bruce’s lap, “Bruce, stop.  I love you.  You and I could live in a sixteen-foot trailer or a one hundred sixty-eight room mansion.  We could go out and do things every night, or never leave the house.  It doesn’t matter to me, so long as we are doing all of that together.  So long as we are together, I don’t care about the rest.  You aren’t Barry, don’t compare yourself to him.  His way works for him, just like your way works for you, and it works for me, too.”

Bruce blinked against the heat rising behind his eyes at Dick’s speech.  “We could be doing so much more, pal.”

Dick snuggled back into the man just a bit tighter, “That’s just it, Bruce.  We could, but we don’t have to, and we don’t need to.  Sure, I wish I could see you more during the week, but you make up for it on the weekends.  We don’t need to do anything extra.  You are all I need.”

Bruce wrapped his arms tightly around Dick.  “I’m _all_ you need?”

Dick smirked, “Well, you and Alfred.  We can’t forget about him.”

A smile came to Bruce’s face as his arms tightened around his boy, “Thanks, chum.”

The pair watched the rest of the game, but the only highlight for Bruce and Dick was when the announcers stated that their stat guys were keeping track of how many hot dogs Barry and Wally were putting away.  Apparently, the game was just as boring to everyone else as it was to Bruce and Dick.  Sitting right behind home plate allowed the statisticians to keep easy track of hot dog consumption.  Dick giggled when it was announced that Wally finished twenty hot dogs, Barry demolished twenty-six, and Iris only put away a measly three.

Walking to the dining room for dinner, Dick said, “I still don’t get why Wally likes baseball so much.  That was kind of boring.”

Bruce nodded, “I agree, pal.”

They sat at the dinner table, waiting for Alfred.  When the wait extended past fifteen minutes, Bruce checked his watch.  “Seven-ten.  I wonder where Alfred is.”

As if summoned, Alfred walked into the dining room.  “Oh, there you two are.  I wasn’t sure if you would be here or not.  I understand baseball games have a tendency to run long.”

Bruce shook his head, “Thank god, not tonight.  Don’t worry, Alfred.  I don’t think Dick or I will be watching too many more of those.”

Alfred turned to the boy, “Master Dick?”

Dick shrugged, “Frankly, I was falling asleep most of the time.  I don’t get why Wally likes it so much.”

Alfred was glad that Dick wasn’t letting Bruce push his opinions on the boy as he said, “So, it was a wasted afternoon, then?”

Dick gave a small smile, “I don’t know about that.  We got to see Barry and Wally scarf a ton of hot dogs on TV, and I got to cuddle with Bruce for, like, four hours.  That is never a waste of time.”

The butler smiled, “I’m glad you think so.  I shall go fetch your dinner.”

_Later…_

“Aren’t we out a little early, Batman,” Robin asked as the Dynamic Duo swung towards midtown.

Batman couldn’t deny the thought.  Their patrol had begun shortly after the sun went down.  Batman wasn’t even sure the real criminals would be out yet, but they had an appointment to keep.

“Yes, we are early tonight,” Batman said.

Robin looked over strangely at the vigilante, “Are you trying to get patrol over with early, to get me home before my bedtime?  Did Agent A say he thinks I need more sleep?”

Batman had to try very hard to keep the smile from his face.  “I’m not doing that tonight; not intentionally, at least.  I want us out and in position to observe.  Chief O’Hara is holding a press conference tonight to discuss Commissioner Gordon’s condition.”

Robin looked confused, “We can’t go to a press conference.  How are we going to get into the room unnoticed?”

Batman was very proud that Robin was thinking of that.  “We don’t have to get inside a room.  The press conference is being held on the front steps on Police Plaza.”

The Dynamic Duo stopped on the roof of a building across the street from Police Plaza.  Robin turned to Batman and asked, “Is that a good idea?  Isn’t the killer still on the loose?”

Batman surveyed the plaza, “No, it isn’t a good idea, but it’s his choice.  Yes, the killer is still on the loose.  That is why we’re here, to watch out for anything suspicious.  There will be a lot of cops at the press conference; a lot of stationary targets out in the open.”

Robin sighed, “I wish that felon program had been able to give us an identity.  At least then we’d know who we’re looking for.”

Batman silently agreed.  They had checked the scan results before leaving for patrol.  Unfortunately, the scan resulted in twenty-five possible criminals with convictions on the list.  Batman knew that wasn’t the only possible list of suspects, too.  Just the most likely one.  There was always a chance that their perpetrator had no criminal history, but he didn’t want to remind Robin of that.  Batman had set the scan to run again before they left for patrol, in the hopes of narrowing the suspect list a bit.

“What time is the press conference, Batman?”

“Nine-thirty,” the vigilante responded.

“We’re a little early,” Robin said, hearing the chimes of St. Judas’ Catholic Church tolling nine o’clock in the distance.

Batman nodded, “I want us to look for anomalies before the conference starts.  Keep your eyes peeled.”

Robin smiled as he pulled his monocular from his utility belt.  “I’ve never understood that expression.  I know what it means, but it’s still a strange saying.”

Traffic flowed along at a normal pace down on the street below as Robin watched the television news crews setting up their cameras.  That in itself caught Robin’s attention.

“Hey, Batman.  Why don’t they just stop and divert the traffic during the press conference?  Wouldn’t that make it safer for the police to be on the street?”

Batman nodded, “Yes, it would, but that would also require higher level thinking.  I don’t think there is too much of that in the Gotham Police force right now.”

“That wasn’t nice, Batman.  True, but not nice.”

Batman looked back at the front of Police Plaza, and was surprised to see a large group of officers walking down the front steps.  “O’Hara is early.  Maybe he’s hoping to get this done before nine-thirty and throw off the killer’s timing.”

Robin was looking down the street, only partly listening to Batman.  “Hey, Batman.  Look at this.”

Batman took a position next to Robin.  “What am I looking at?”

“Three blocks west, at the stop light.  Green car.  Looks like an undercover cop car.  I can’t make out a plate on the front of that car.”

Batman found the vehicle Robin was describing.  “No, no plate on the front.”

“It’s the same type of car from the traffic camera video.”

“Yes, but so are a dozen other cars on the street.  That is a common police vehicle.”

Robin looked up from his monocular, “I guess so.”

Batman looked down at the boy, “Keep an eye on it, Robin.”

 A minute later, Robin said quietly, “It’s stopped at the light, just on the other side of the plaza.”

Batman absorbed the information, “O’Hara just started the press conference.”

Robin looked down to see lights and cameras pointed at the police chief.  They couldn’t hear it, but they could tell that the man was talking.  Robin looked back at the car and saw it driving slowly in front of the police building, seemingly taking a good look around.  The car passed the building, but pulled into the turn lane at the next light.

“Batman, I think it’s him.  It has to be him.  What do we do?”

Batman found the car as it pulled a quick U-turn.  “I think you’re right, Robin.  Get ready to move.”

No sooner had the words left Batman’s mouth than the car came to a stop at the foot of the steps.  The inside of the car lit up with staccato muzzle flashes as the driver opened fire on the crowd of police and reporters through the passenger side window.  Even from their lofty height, Batman and Robin could hear the screams from the plaza below as potential victims ran for their lives.

Batman and Robin were diving from the roof before the fusillade ended.  Before they were halfway to the ground, the gunfire stopped and the car sped away.  The Dynamic Duo went from freefall to line swinging instantly, following the suspect vehicle.

“Shouldn’t we get the Batmobile,” Robin shouted over the wind.

“No time, Robin.  We can get him and end this now.”

The car took a right and headed out of the city center, the Bats almost on top of him.  Batman was pretty sure that their pursuit was so far unnoticed by their suspect.  The car was doing its best to blend in with traffic, not stand out.

The vehicle took a left into a construction site and pulled into a warehouse.  Batman and Robin landed, six blocks from the building they had jumped off of, and took positions just outside of the door.

Batman hissed to Robin, “Follow my lead.  We don’t know if this is the guy’s actual hideout, or just a stop-off point.  Stay close and keep your head down.  Let’s go.”

Batman and Robin stuck to the shadows as they entered the building.  A high catwalk ringed the upper level of the mostly empty warehouse.  The ground was littered with stray pallets, boxes, and other construction debris.  Batman felt the hair rising on the back of his neck at the lack of substantial cover in the space, especially when dealing with a criminal with an affinity for automatic weapons.

Robin activated his radio and whispered, “I don’t see anything, Batman.  You don’t think he’s still in the car, do you?”

Batman looked at the dark green Crown Victoria Interceptor, ticking itself cool in almost the dead center of the warehouse.  The dark tinted windows prevented the vigilantes from seeing inside of the car to make that determination.

Robin took a cautious step towards the car when Batman grabbed his shoulder.  “I don’t like this, Robin.  He parked the car under the only lights in the whole building.  I didn’t think we were spotted while pursuing him, but maybe we were.”

Batman hesitated for a second, then sighed and said, “Stay close.”

The Dynamic Duo slowly approached the getaway vehicle, staying out of the direct light for as long as possible.  Batman finally entered the large square of illumination, and was able to see that the car was empty.

Batman turned to Robin and said, “He’s not here…”

As the words left his mouth, from up on the high catwalk, bullets rained down at the vigilante.  Batman ducked behind the car as machine-gun fire peppered the dirt with hot lead.

Robin was at his side, behind the car, in an instant.  “He’s up on the catwalk, Batman,” the sidekick shouted.

A second later, a second stream of discharged ammunition came at our heroes from another direction.  Batman and Robin stared at each other in shock.  “He has an accomplice.  Stay down, Robin.”

Robin cringed as bullets flew every which way, but he pulled out his monocular again and tried to get a look at the gunmen.  Batman was doing the same thing.

“I don’t see anyone, Batman.”

“Neither do I,” the vigilante shouted back.

The gunfire continued, and Robin asked, “What kind of guns are those?”

“They sound like M-60’s.  Belt-fed machine guns.  If we’re waiting them out, we might be here for a while.”

Robin nodded, “The guns are moving.  Why can’t we see anyone up there?”

Batman took another look.  “They are machine controlled.  Whoever this is set them and took off.  He must be long gone by…”

Quite possibly the worst thing Batman, or Bruce, had ever heard cut off his statement.  Next to him, the ping of a ricochet was instantly followed by the most heartrending scream of pain the man had ever heard.  Robin collapsed to the ground, screaming, as he held his leg.

“I’ve been shot!”

_Baby, no!_   Bruce nearly broke through Batman as his boy lay on the ground, crying in pain.  _That’s enough for tonight, we’re getting out of here._

Batman pressed the call button for the Batmobile, built into his utility belt, before gathering up the pitiful-looking youth into his arms.  “You’re okay, Robin.  It’ll be okay”

“Okay!?!  I’ve been shot!  It hurts.”

“I know, baby, I know.  I’m going to get you out of here.”  Batman’s face paled as he saw the side of the boy’s green shorts turning red.  “The car will be here in just a minute, and I’ll take you home, and you-know-who will fix you up.”

“Agent A,” the boy sniffled.

Batman nodded, “And Agent A will fix you up.”

Batman’s head snapped up as the noise of the assault was cut in half.  _One of the guns must have run out of ammo.  Now’s my chance._

Still under fire, Batman quickly rose and sprinted from the warehouse, his damaged bird held cradled in his arms.  The gunfire stopped as Batman left the building, the second gun emplacement running empty.  Batman crouched down, laid the whimpering child on the ground, and dug in his utility belt for first aid supplies.  He was quickly taping a thick square of gauze in place as he thought _where is that damn car?_

Robin sniffled as he whispered to the man, “It huuuuuurts, daddy.”

_Oh, kiddo, you’re breaking my heart right now._   “I know, pal.  Just a couple more minutes.  I know you can hang on for a couple more minutes.  For me?”

Robin looked up into Batman’s cowl.  Their eyes met through the lenses, and Robin gave a small nod.  “For you.”

Horns blared from the roadway as the requested car cut across three lanes of traffic to enter the construction zone.  It slid to a halt twenty feet away, but Batman had already grabbed Robin and was running towards the waiting car.  As soon as the canopy slid open, Batman gently deposited Robin in the passenger seat, before heading around the car to the driver seat.

The Batmobile was halfway down the block before the canopy had completely closed again.  It was only then that Batman noticed the light on the dashboard indicating a waiting call from the cave.

“Go ahead, Cave.”

Alfred’s voice sounded harried, “There you are.  Are you tracking this latest development?  The killer has struck again, this time at Chief O’Hara’s press conference.”

Batman gripped the wheel tightly as he growled out, “I’m aware of it, but it isn’t important right now.”

Alfred’s tone became incensed, “Not important right now?  The news is reporting four more officers and five reporters killed.  Another twenty injured.  How exactly is this not important right now?”

“Robin’s been shot.”

The gasp that filled the car was more felt than heard.  “Master Robin?  Is he okay?”

The boy spoke up, knowing that Alfred wouldn’t take Batman at his word.  “It hurts, Agent A.”

Alfred was all business, “Where was he hit, Master Batman?”

Batman took his eyes off the road for a second to look at Robin, “Right hip.  It was a ricochet.”

Batman could imagine the butler nodding, “Very well.  I assume you are on your way home?”

“You assume correctly,” Batman growled.

“Should I request an assistant for this, sir?”

Batman thought for a second.  _It might not be a bad idea, for Leslie to know about this.  I’ll only get yelled at a little bit if she knows right away, as opposed to getting yelled at a lot if she finds out later._   “Give her a call.  I want to make sure this is taken care of.  I really don’t think it is all that serious of a wound, but I don’t want to face her wrath if she finds out about it later.”

“Agreed, sir.  Making the call now.”

The car was quiet for several minutes before Robin asked in a small voice, “Am I going to be okay, Batman?  There’s blood.”

“Let me see.”  Batman glanced over as Robin turned to show him the gauze, now stained red.  Batman grimaced, “Hold pressure on it, Robin.  Maybe we can get the bleeding to stop before we get home.”

Robin hissed as he touched the gauze, “It hurts.”

“It’s going to hurt, but it’s also going to help.  Hold pressure on the wound until we get home.”

Robin did as he was told, wincing again, as Batman sent the pedal to the floor.

Thirty minutes later, the Batmobile slid to a stop on the turntable in the cave.  Bruce was quick to rip off his cowl as he waited for the canopy to slide open.  Alfred and Leslie were waiting for the man to carry his son from the car.

“You got here quick, Leslie,” Bruce said, brushing past the pair to the medical bay.

The doctor nodded, trailing after Bruce.  “When Alfred calls, asking for medical help, you don’t waste time wondering if it is a serious situation.  How does it feel, Dick?”

“It hurts,” Dick sniffled as he was laid on the exam table.

Leslie gave Dick a compassionate look, “I don’t doubt it, sweetie.  Let’s take a look.”

The doctor peeled off the gauze that Bruce had hastily taped in place as Alfred brought over a tray of supplies.  There wasn’t much she could see as it was, and she walked around to the other end of the table and crouched down to meet Dick’s eyes.  Bruce had already peeled off the boy’s eye mask, and was removing his cape as Leslie spoke to the youth.

“Dick, I’ve seen far worse.  Bruce has come home many times with worse wounds than that.”

Dick’s lower lip quivered, and he whispered, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?  Because it doesn’t.”

Leslie shook her head, “No, what I mean is, you’re going to be fine.  You’re in good hands, but this isn’t going to be comfortable, or pleasant.  First thing, I’m going to have to take your shorts off.  Then, once Alfred and I get you cleaned up a bit, we can see about stitching you up.”

Dick took a deep breath and said softly, “Okay, Leslie.  I trust you.  Do what you have to do.”

Leslie gave Dick a big smile as Bruce took her place at the head of the table.  “That’s my brave boy.  This will all be over soon.”

Leslie called out, “Okay, Dick, we’re going to get started now.  I need you to lift your hips for me.”

Even knowing what she was going to do, it was still surprising, and a bit painful, when Alfred slipped his shorts off.  Dried blood had stuck the cloth to his wound, and it felt like he was being torn open again when the shorts were removed.

“You okay, Dick?”

Dick asked nervously, “W-was that supposed to hurt?”

Leslie sighed, “Unfortunately, yes.  Don’t worry, it was just some dried blood pulling away from your skin.  Nothing to worry about.”

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Dick giggled a bit as he felt fingers prodding at his hip.  Leslie smiled at her patient, “Something funny up there?”

“I never thought I would be shot in the butt, Leslie.”

“I never thought I would be looking for a bullet in your butt, either, Dick.  Uh-oh.”

Bruce was at her side in a second.  “What do you mean, uh-oh?  I don’t want to hear uh-oh.”

Leslie held up a hand, “It’s okay, Bruce.  There’s no exit wound.  The bullet is still in there.  I’ll have to go in after it.”

Dick turned his head, just as concerned about the ‘uh-oh’ as Bruce was.  “Wait, you have to go in my butt to get the bullet?”

“I can’t leave it in there, Dick.  I’m going to give you something to numb the area, then we’ll get that nasty bullet out of you.”

Dick’s eyes widened, “NO!  No needles.  I hate needles.”

Bruce returned to the head of the table and took Dick’s hand.  “She has to do it, Dick.  She isn’t going to go digging around for a bullet without giving you something for the pain first.  Even if it was an option, she wouldn’t do it, because…”

“Ooowwwiiiiieeeee!”

Dick whined as Leslie extracted the needle from his hip.  He gave her a betrayed look as she said, “Sorry, Dick, but the sooner we get this done, the better.  This will take effect in just a minute, then we can get started.”

Leslie went to inspect her tools as Dick turned back to Bruce, tears in his eyes.  “I don’t like needles,” Dick said to the man petulantly.

Bruce gave a small smile and rested his forehead against Dick’s.  “I can’t think that little tiny needle hurt worse than the bullet.  You’re doing so well, Dickie.  This will all be over soon.”

“I’m scared, Daddy,” Dick breathed, so only Bruce could hear.

“I am too, son, but you know what?  You’re handling it better than I did, the first time I got shot.”

Dick glanced up to look at the blue eyes that were only a couple centimeters from his own.  “You’ve been shot more than once?”

Bruce sighed, “Unfortunately, yes.  That’s why my uniform is so heavy.  I know just how much what you’re going through sucks, and I want to prevent that from happening again, if I can.”

“Did Leslie fix you up when you got shot, too?”

Bruce shook his head a tiny bit, moving Dick’s head along with his own, “Not the first time.  The first time, I was in Nepal.  I found an aid clinic in the mountains, and cleaned myself up there.”

Dick’s eyes widened, “You had to fix yourself up?”

“Yes, which is why we called a professional for you.  I want to make sure this is done right.”

“I love you, Daddy,” Dick breathed out.

“There it is,” Leslie said, walking around to the front of the exam table with a bullet held in a set of forceps.

Dick’s eyes widened in wonder, “You’re done already?  I didn’t even know you started.”

Leslie smiled, “Yep, I decided to use the doctor’s best friend.  While Bruce had you distracted, I got to work.  Bruce didn’t know I was going to do that, so don’t think it was some conspiracy against you.  I’m just going to stitch you up now, and you’ll be good as new.”

Leslie walked away, but Dick turned to see her again with a wince.  “Wait, ow.”

“What is it, Master Dick,” Alfred asked, bringing a suture kit over for Leslie’s use.

“Can you do something about the wound to, you know, make it not look like a bullet wound?  That would be a pretty hard scar to explain.”

Bruce walked into Dick’s field of vision, “Who is going to be looking at your butt to see it?”

Dick shrugged, “I don’t know.  What if I’m in a hospital someday, and Leslie isn’t the doctor taking care of me?  What if the bullies still pick on me next year, and, I don’t know, steal my pants during gym class, or something?  Please, Leslie?  Isn’t there something you can do?”

Leslie sighed deeply, “There is something I can do, but it will hurt, and it will make it take longer to heal.”

Alfred asked, “Are you going to extend the incision?”

Leslie looked very hesitant, “It would help to disguise the wound, but I won’t do it unless all four of us are in agreement.  I’m a doctor, Dick.  Our first commandment is to do no harm.  You’re asking me to violate that oath.”

Dick turned on the puppy dog eyes as he said, “Please, Leslie.”

She turned to Alfred, “What do you think, Alfred?”

Alfred sighed, “It won’t be pleasant, but I think it is for the best to disguise that wound as much as possible.”

Leslie turned again, “Bruce?  You are the parent here.  You have final say.”

Bruce walked over and looked at the wound.  He prodded the area slightly, to get a better look at the hole.  He then walked around and crouched in front of Dick’s face again.  “Chum, it’s in a spot that will very rarely, if ever, be seen by anyone.  Like Leslie said, it’s going to hurt more, and make it take longer to heal.  We can find other ways to explain a round wound.  I’ll be honest, I hate the idea of you getting shot more than anything in the world, but if you had to get shot, you got hit in just about the best place possible for hiding the scar.  I don’t think it’s a good idea to make what was done to you worse.”

Leslie came to stand next to Bruce and said, “Dick, there are a few tricks I can do in stitching you up to disguise the shape of the wound.  It won’t require hurting you, and will only add a couple extra stitches.  Do you want to try that?”

Dick looked back and forth between Bruce and Leslie before asking, “Are you _sure_ you can make it not look like I was shot?”

“I will do my very best.”

Dick sighed and said softly, “Okay, let’s do it that way.  Make it quick, please.  I don’t want to be stabbed more than I have to be.”

Leslie gave a soft smile, “I don’t want to stab you any more than I have to, either.”

Leslie set to work stitching Dick’s hip up.  Alfred walked over and stood in front of Bruce, with his arms crossed over his chest.  “Okay, the important part is out of the way.  Explain to us what happened tonight, Master Bruce.”

Bruce was holding Dick’s hand, feeling the little squeezes Dick gave his hand at every tug of Leslie’s needle.  “We were on the roof of the building across the street from Police Plaza, watching for anything suspicious during Chief O’Hara’s press conference.  Dick spotted a potential suspect vehicle, matching the one from the traffic camera footage.  It looked like it was going to pass by the press conference, when it flipped a U-turn and stopped in front of the gathering.  We were moving as soon as he stopped, but we were seventy-five stories up.  The guy opened fire and drove off before we could get halfway to the ground.  We followed as best we could, and tracked the criminal to a construction site.  I don’t know if it was his regular hideout, or something he set up for tonight, but it was effective.  He had to have figured that someone would follow him tonight.  As soon as we approached the car, which he wasn’t in anymore, two machine gun emplacements in the rafters opened fire.”

Leslie gasped, “So, there is more than one shooter after all?”

Bruce shook his head, “No.  The best we could tell, the guns were working off of remote control.  He sighted in a kill box, and we walked right in to it.  Dick and I hid behind the car, and were waiting for the guns to run out of ammo, when a lucky, or unlucky, ricochet caught Dick in the cheek there.  I got him out of there as quickly as I could.  I didn’t stop to investigate the scene, I didn’t call it in to the police, I just got Dick out of there.”

Alfred’s posture softened dramatically during the explanation.  “Well, I suppose you were as cautious as you could be, given the circumstances.  I believe it is time to get Master Dick to bed, sir.”

“Agreed.  You’ve had a long night, kiddo.”

Leslie had just finished covering the stitches as Alfred brought over a set of pajamas.  Dick started changing into them as he sat on the exam table.  Leslie smiled, “Not a modest one, are you, Dick?”

Dick smiled at the doctor, “You spent the last hour looking at my butt.  I don’t think this part of the night, getting dressed, is the embarrassing one.”

Leslie shrugged, “Okay.  That was the easy part.  Now for the hard part, honey.”

Dick’s eyes widened, “There’s more?”

“Yes.  Until the stitches come out, don’t get the area wet.  Obey Alfred when he changes the dressing tomorrow.  Also, try to take it easy.  I know you’re an active boy, but no running around for a couple days.  Be careful how you sit on it, and if you feel like the stitches are pulling, tell someone immediately.  Be careful how you lay on it, too.  And last, but not least, let Bruce and Alfred spoil you a bit, just until the stitches come out.  Alfred can probably be talked into breakfast in bed, and I know Bruce can be talked into just about anything you could ever want right about now.  You’ve probably been the best patient I’ve had all day, Dick, but don’t make a habit of this.  I don’t like these kinds of visits.”

The doctor leaned forward and hugged Dick, who returned the embrace with a smile.  As she was collecting her medical bag, Dick asked, “Wait, Leslie, can we count this as my physical?”

Dr. Thompkins laughed, “It would be smart to just get it out of the way while I’m here, but I think it would raise a couple too many red flags with the authorities if I were to submit an annual report without you coming into the office.  Anyway, I want to see you on Tuesday even more now, so I can check how you are healing.  I will say this, though.  Other than your new perforation, you look to be as healthy as ever.”

Dick sighed as Bruce picked him up to take him upstairs, “Okay, Leslie.  Thanks a lot, for everything except the needles.  See you Tuesday.”

Bruce looked at the woman, and Alfred caught the look in Bruce’s eye.  “I can see the good doctor out if you would like to take Master Dick up to bed, Master Bruce.”

Bruce gave a small smile, “Yes.  Thanks, Alfred.  Leslie, you’re a lifesaver.  I don’t know what we would do without you.  Thank you.”

Leslie stood on her toes and kissed Bruce’s cheek, then Dick’s.  “Well, we all have our parts to play.  I’m glad I was able to help, and I’m very glad that it wasn’t worse.”

The group walked out of the cave and stopped at the foot of the main staircase.  “You and me both.  Good night, Leslie.”

“Thanks again, Leslie,” Dick said with a yawn.

Bruce carried the boy up the stairs as Alfred showed their guest out.  Dick’s arms wrapped tightly around Bruce’s neck as the adrenaline of the evening wore off.  By the time they entered Dick’s room, the youth was shaking in Bruce’s grasp.

“It’s okay, pal.  It’s all over now.”

Dick gave a large sniff, “I’m scared, Bruce.”

“Why, kiddo,” Bruce asked softly, “You heard Leslie, you’re going to be fine.”

Dick whispered, “This night could have ended so much worse.  What if I got hit somewhere else?  What if you got hit?”

“Then we would have dealt with it, just like we did.”

“We could have died tonight, Bruce.”

Bruce looked into Dick’s eyes seriously, “Dick, we could die every night we go out into the city as Batman and Robin.  What we do is dangerous.  We live in a dangerous city.  That’s why I made your training so hard.  The more you are prepared for, the more you can handle.”

Dick’s eyes were wide, “Yeah, but we didn’t handle tonight.”

“There is no way to prepare for an ambush.  You didn’t do anything wrong tonight.”

“But I still got hurt.”

Bruce shook his head, “No, don’t think like that.  What happened tonight was a freak accident.  An unavoidable occurrence.  No one could have predicted that ricochet.  We were doing exactly what our training told us to do.  We had the best cover we could find, and we were waiting for a safe time to move.  What happened was an accident, and in no way your fault.”

Dick looked depressed as Bruce gently laid him down in his bed.  “We still don’t even know who this guy is.”

“We will, pal.  He’s getting desperate, to try a stunt like the one he pulled tonight.”

“How can you know that, Bruce?”

Bruce sighed, “He’s striking at more high profile targets.  That can only mean that his plan is coming to an end.”

Dick met Bruce’s eyes seriously, “You hope.”

Bruce nodded with a sigh, “I hope.”

Dick gave a deep sigh, which was ended with a wince as he moved under his covers.  “I’m still scared, Daddy.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, but he was able to hide it from Dick.  “I know, Dickie.  Tell you what.  I need to have a quick word with Alfred, but then I will be right back, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Bruce had a hard time leaving the room, but he accomplished the task.  Fortunately, Alfred was coming up the stairs.  Bruce motioned for the man to follow him into his bedroom.

“Did the young sir fall asleep, Master Bruce?”

Bruce stood with his back to Alfred, “Not yet, Alfred.”

Alfred’s eyes widened, “And you left him alone?”

“I didn’t want to.”

Alfred stared critically at Bruce’s back, “Then there must be a good reason for you to have left his side.”

Bruce turned to reveal a face marked with tears, shocking Alfred.  The butler moved forward and embraced his employer, knowing that Bruce hadn’t wanted to cry in front of Dick.  “It will all work out, Bruce.  Dick will be fine,” Alfred whispered.

“I almost lost my boy tonight, Alfred.  He’s scared, and he’s not the only one.  God, I thought my heart was going to stop when he said he’d been shot tonight.  Why did you ever allow me to bring him into night work?”

Alfred squeezed Bruce tighter.  “Stop right there.  First of all, you didn’t nearly lose him tonight.  It is merely a flesh wound, and he will recover quickly.  Second, there was very little I could do to stop you from allowing him to join you in your nightly endeavors.  I did warn you that he would be injured in protecting the city.  You allowed him to continue, as you will when he recovers, because you love him, and you can’t bear to see him not reach his full potential.  Third, we are all scared of what happened, and what may happen in the future, but we cannot allow that fear to rule our lives.”

Bruce absorbed the guiding words.  They were exactly what he had been hoping, needing, to hear, but he wasn’t going to put Dick in a position to say them.  It wasn’t Dick’s job to be the strong one of the pair, and Bruce wasn’t going to force that on him.  Dick didn’t need to see Bruce breaking down on account of Dick’s injury.  It would just cause guilt to flood the boy, and Bruce didn’t want to see Dick’s light dim any more than it already had.

Composing himself, Bruce took half a step back and whispered, “Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred nodded at Bruce and said, “I believe there is a boy in the next room who would like a hug, as well.”

Bruce gave a small smirk, “Would you like first crack at that?”

Alfred returned the small smile, “I probably should.  Heavens know you will probably be smothering the child for the foreseeable future.”

“Ow.”

Bruce’s reply was cut off as his head swiveled towards the door.  “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what, sir?”

“Dick just said ‘ow’.”

Alfred shook his head, “I didn’t hear anything, sir.”

Bruce was already in the hall when he said, “I’d better check on him.”

Alfred watched his charge go, glad to see that Bruce was able to pull it together for his son.  Alfred had heard the soft exclamation of pain, but he knew that Bruce wanted to feel needed right now.  The door was closed behind Bruce as he entered the boy’s room, and Alfred thought to himself, _I’m fairly certain that will be the last time I see him tonight.  What I don’t understand is why Bruce didn’t take the boy to his own bed._

Inside Dick’s room, Bruce was surprised to find the boy standing next to his bed.

“Hey, kiddo, why are you out of bed?  Leslie told you to be careful.”

Dick looked over with a half frustrated, half scared expression on his face.  “It’s no use, Bruce.  I can’t sleep.”

Bruce walked over and sat on the bed.  He took Dick’s hand and asked, “What do you mean?”

Dick heaved a sigh, “I can’t get comfortable.  I don’t know how to lay with this hole in my side.”

Despite the reminder of the wound, Bruce gave a small smile.  “Why can’t you?  What have you tried?”

“I tried laying on my back, but it was pushing on the stitches.  I obviously can’t sleep on that side.  Whenever I sleep on my side, I roll over in the night.  I know I would roll onto it.  I can’t sleep on my stomach, either.  I can’t get comfortable that way, and I breathe all weird.”

Bruce gave a small nod.  “Well, how about this.  Since you can’t sleep on your stomach, why don’t you try sleeping on mine?”

Dick stared at the man strangely, “What does that mean?  I’m too tired to try to figure out riddles, Bruce.”

Bruce grabbed Dick and swept him into the air.  He laid down on the boy’s bed on his back and gently positioned the child so they were laying stomach to stomach.  “I don’t toss and turn in my sleep, so you know I’m not going to roll over on top of you.  You can use me as a way to keep pressure off of your side.  You’ve slept like this before.”

Dick gave a soft smile as he snuggled into Bruce’s chest.  He mumbled out, “Are you going to stay like this all night, Daddy?”

“I can’t exactly sneak out from under you, and even if I could, I wouldn’t.  There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be right now.”

Dick sighed contentedly, finally finding a comfortable spot.  “G’night, Daddy.  I love you.”

Bruce wrapped his arms tightly around the warm bundle on his chest and whispered, “I love you, kiddo.”

 

**A/N: Well, another one down, and, even though you don’t know who the killer is yet, I have a bit of an announcement.  There are only two chapters left in this story.  The killer and the motive will be revealed in the next chapter, with the final confrontation in the last chapter.  Right now, I think both of those chapters will be on the shorter side, but then again, I thought this one would be pretty short, too.  Look how that turned out.**

**I’m sorry for the extra time between postings, but spring allergies have been hitting me hard, and work is hitting me even harder.  Between staring at a computer screen at work all day and the headaches I get from allergies, I haven’t been able to get much done on this lately.**

**I would love to hear what you all think so far.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	9. 9

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 9

 

Dick Grayson was very confused when he woke up on Sunday morning.  He was sleeping on his stomach, and he never slept on his stomach.  Dick felt that he couldn’t breathe right when he slept on his stomach.  His leg felt like it was slowly being ripped from his body, and he just knew that, if he moved it, it would fall off.  Strangest of all, his mattress seemed to be moving.

Dick eased one eye open slowly, to try to make sense of his surroundings.  He was definitely in his room, but he almost never saw it from this angle.  Soft light of early morning leaked under his curtains, lifting the inkiness of the room.  He was sure he was still dreaming, until a large hand came to rest on the back of his head.

Suddenly, his activities of the previous night came back to him, and everything started to make sense.  Unfortunately, remembering what happened also caused the pain in his hip to flare back into his consciousness.  He flinched involuntarily, but a smile returned to his face when the arm wrapped around his back tightened slightly.

“How’d you sleep, kiddo?”

He gave a contented sigh as Bruce’s voice rumbled from both above and below him.  Dick slowly turned his head to look up at Bruce and said softly, “You kept your promise.”

“Of course I did, kiddo,” Bruce said with a smile.  “Did you think I would actually leave you?”

Dick answered honestly, “I hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Well, I didn’t, and here I am, and here you are.  How do you feel?”

Dick winced, “It’s sore, and kinda throbby.”

Bruce smiled, “I don’t think that’s a word, Dick, but I get your meaning.  It should be just about time for some painkillers.  I’m sure Alfred will want to give you some antibiotics, too.”

Dick paled, remembering what Bruce jokingly referred to as ‘the horse pills’.  “Can’t he start getting liquid antibiotics?  I always choke on those pills.”

Bruce patted the back of Dick’s head, “Don’t get sick, and you won’t have to take them.”

Dick grew a crafty smile, “But I’m _not_ sick, so I _shouldn’t_ have to take them.”

“It doesn’t work that way, pal.  You were hit by a ricochet.  We don’t know what the bullet bounced off of before finding a new home in your rear end, so we are going to play it safe.  You’re taking the pills.”

“Aww.  For how long?”

Bruce’s smile softened, “Until Alfred says to stop.”

Dick sighed and said softly, “Okay.”

Father and son lay, staring at each other comfortably, for several minutes.  Only when the boy’s stomach rumbled did Bruce consider moving to start the day.

“Hey, Bruce?”

“Yes, chum?”

Dick looked around awkwardly, “I need to get up, but I think I need some help.  My leg is all stiff.”

Bruce rolled the boy onto his uninjured hip before sitting up.  Dick slid into his lap with only a slight wince, and Bruce inched them towards the end of the bed.

“Do you want to try standing, pal?”

Dick shrugged, “I’ll have to do it eventually.”

The boy started to slide out of Bruce’s lap when Bruce grabbed the boy under his arms and lifted.  An involuntary smile crossed his face as Bruce held him just above the ground.  “Let me know if this hurts.”

Bruce gently set Dick down, but lifted him again when the boy hissed in pain.  When the sensation subsided, Dick said, “No, it’s okay.  Put me down again.  I just need to get used to it.”

“You’re sure, Dickie?”

Dick nodded, “Yeah.  Don’t go too far, though.  Standing is one thing.  Walking might be different.”

Dick gingerly took a step towards the bathroom, then another.  The stretching of skin that had very recently been sewn together was not a very pleasant feeling, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.  Soon enough, he made it to his destination.

Bruce asked, “Need any help in there?”

“Not since I was three, Bruce.  Still, though, wait for me?  I need to be able to do things on my own, but, maybe, not everything just yet?”

Bruce gave a proud smile, “I’m here when you need me, Dick.”

A minute later, Dick left the bathroom with a smile.  Bruce returned the smile, “Everything come out alright for you?”

“Yeah, Bruce…eewww.  Why would you ask that?  That’s gross.”

Bruce chuckled, “Just a simple question.  Did you want to try getting dressed, or did you want to see if Alfred has breakfast ready?”

Dick thought for a second.  “Well, it’s probably going to be kinda hard to come back up here to change after breakfast, unless you carry me again.  On the other hand, Alfred is going to want to check the bandage, and it will be easier to do that while still in pajamas.”

Bruce turned as the bedroom door was opened, “Or, you can just let him check it now.”

Alfred smiled as he found his charges already awake.  He was a bit surprised that Dick was up and around.  “Good morning, Master Bruce, Master Dick.  How are you feeling today?”

Dick shrugged as he smiled at the butler, “Like I told Bruce, it’s sore.  Alfred, do we have any antibiotics that aren’t really big pills that I’m going to choke on?”

Alfred hid his smile at the question.  “To date, you have never choked on the antibiotics I’ve had to give you.”

“Sure felt like I was going to,” Dick grumbled.

“You will survive, Master Dick,” Alfred said with a laugh, “Now, if I overheard correctly, you are contemplating dressing for the day?  Would your decision be a bit easier to make if I were to check your bandage now?”

Dick looked at Alfred sheepishly as he realized that Alfred had been outside of his room long enough to overhear their conversation.  Idly, he wondered how many of his private talks with Bruce Alfred had heard over the years.

“Yeah.  Can you check it now, Alfred, or do we have to go back to the cave?”

Alfred approached the child, “I believe we can take care of that right here.  If you please?”

Dick revealed his bandage and turned to let Alfred look at it in the light.  The butler made sure the gauze hadn’t come loose overnight.  “Well, my boy, there has been a little seepage.”

“What does that mean,” Dick asked nervously.

Alfred gave a small smile, “Not a thing, young sir.  Seepage is expected with a wound of this type.  That bandage will need to be changed.”

Alfred walked over to the dresser, where he had laid a tray containing the necessary supplies.  “Master Dick, if you wouldn’t mind standing on the bed, this will go quicker.”

Dick looked at Alfred like he had grown a second head, “ _Stand_ on the bed?  You never let us stand on the furniture.”

“No, I do not, and this will not become a normal occurrence.  This way, you will be in the light a little better.”

Bruce wasn’t buying it, but it didn’t really matter, because the smile that was lighting up Dick’s face as he scrambled up on the bed was big enough to spread to his own face.  Alfred gently removed the old gauze and cleaned the wound.

Dick read the label on the tube of ointment Alfred had just applied to his wound, “Hey, Alfred?  This says it is an antibacterial ointment.”

“Yes, young sir, it is.”

Dick looked up questioningly, “So, if this is an antibiotic, why are you going to shove the horse pills down my throat?”

Bruce’s sudden coughing fit caught the attention of the other males in the room.  Dick was slightly worried, but Alfred recognized a poorly covered-up laugh when he heard one.  “Something you wanted to say, Master Bruce?”

Bruce couldn’t kill his smile when he said, “No, no, carry on, Alfred.”  _I want to hear how you explain this one.  Kiddo, sometimes you are too sharp for your own good._

Alfred turned and held up the tube again, “This antibacterial ointment works fairly well at getting rid of germs, but it only works on the outside.  The pills are designed to take care of the germs that are on the inside.”

“The inside of what, Alfred?”

Alfred smiled, “Of you, dear boy.  We don’t know if that bullet left any dirt or germs behind after it was removed.  The pills will help prevent any illnesses or infections from cropping up.  We are all aware of just how much you enjoy being sick.  I would think, knowing they are to prevent illness, you would be requesting one a day.”

Bruce smirked.  He could tell that Dick was deep in thought as Alfred finished covering the stitches again.  Dick finally looked into the butler’s eyes and said, “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

Alfred had a hard time not laughing at that, “You are an extraordinarily bright child, Master Dick.  I figured you were already aware of that fact.  If you two would care to get dressed, breakfast will be ready by the time you make it downstairs.”

Breakfast was indeed ready by the time Dick was able to limp down the stairs.  Bruce would have been more than happy to carry him to the table, and anywhere else he wanted to go until the stitches came out, but Dick insisted that he didn’t want to be a burden.

Following the meal, they adjourned to the den, where Bruce read the Sunday paper while Dick started his next foray into the works of Mark Twain, The Prince and the Pauper.  Bruce had been wondering how Dick would react to the title of the book, and whether he would read more into it than was there.  Even after years, Dick still had the occasional bouts of financial inadequacy.  Bruce hated to see it, but he knew it would get better eventually.

One newspaper and several chapters of Twain later, Alfred cleared his throat from the door of the den.  “Excuse me, Master Bruce, but you have a visitor.”

Bruce looked at the butler strangely, “I didn’t hear the doorbell, Alfred.”

Alfred shook his head, “No, sir.  Mister Kent awaits you downstairs.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, thinking _what the hell does he want?  Can’t I spend a nice, relaxing day with my boy in peace?_   Bruce sighed as he stood, “Guess I better see what he wants.  Coming, chum?”

Dick didn’t look up from his book, “After I finish this chapter, I’ll come down and say hi.”

Bruce smiled at the reading child and walked away.  In the cave, Superman stood near the Bat-Computer, trying not to look like he had been looking around while left unattended in the Cave.

“Clark, it’s Sunday.  Don’t you have anything better to do than stop by unannounced?”

Clark turned to the stairs to see the master of the house descending into the Bat’s lair.  He gave a small smile to the man and said, “Well, I think you can understand my curiosity.”

Bruce looked at Superman strangely and said, “No, I don’t think I get your drift.”

Clark sighed, “It has escaped no one’s attention that your police killer is still on the loose.  Nine dead, twenty injured, in one night, especially when _all_ of them are police and press, tends to make national news.  Just how many more people have to die before you put this guy away?”

Bruce stopped in his tracks and sent a glare hard enough to melt the Man of Steel at his visitor.  Clark winced at the glare, and Bruce said in a deadly, quiet tone, “Are you seriously blaming _me_ for this crime spree?  Think carefully before answering that, Clark, because I am not in the mood for any bullshit today.”

Clark took a steadying breath, “That came out wrong, Bruce.  I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t doing everything in your power to catch this guy.  I just want you to know that all you have to do is ask for help, and you will have it.  The whole League is ready to jump in on this one.”

Bruce stalked past Clark, and sat down in the computer chair.  “I have all the help I want or need, Clark.  Dick and I…I will get this guy.  Anyway, how do you know that the whole League wants to jump into my investigation?”

Clark noticed the way Bruce paused, and the change in tone after mentioning Dick.  A sneaking suspicion entered the Kryptonian’s mind.  “You missed last night’s meeting, but we caught several newscasts regarding your manhunt.  Bruce, what is it?”

“What is what?”

“Your tone changed.  Did…did something happen to Dick?”

Bruce’s head whipped around at being found out.  “Why would you even…”  Bruce stopped himself at Clark’s look, and changed tactics with a sigh.  “Yes.  Dick was shot last night.”

“ _What_?”  Had Clark been sitting, he would have shot to his feet.

Bruce sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get rid of Clark until he had the whole story now.  He went over how they watched the drive-by, chased the suspect to the construction yard, got pinned down in a conveniently placed trap, and escaped home for a quick surgery.

Clark staggered over to a chair, “Wow.  I can see why you missed the meeting now.  How is he?”

Bruce dragged his hand over his face, “He’s doing a lot better than he should be.”

Bruce turned to see Dick stepping gingerly down the stairs.  Clark turned, following Bruce’s glance, and gasped at the child walking towards the men with a smile on his face.

When Dick was close enough, Clark asked, “Should you be walking, Dick?”

Dick shrugged, “As long as I take it easy, Dr. Thompkins said it should be okay.  Hi, Clark.”

Clark thought about giving up his chair to the limping boy, but then realized who was occupying the other chair at the computer.  Dick walked straight past Clark, and was all but vacuumed into Bruce’s lap.  The presence of the boy seemed to smooth out Bruce’s rough edges in the several seconds Dick had been in Bruce’s presence, and the change brought a small smile to Clark’s face.

“What are you doing here, Uncle Clark?”

The reporter smiled at the name, then smiled bigger at seeing the nervous tic under Bruce’s eye.  “I was hoping to get an update on your manhunt.  Bruce tells me that you two got close last night.”

Dick nodded, “Yep, we were right on him, until…”

“Yeah, I get the ‘until’,” Clark said, seeing Dick’s mood start to dip.  Bruce sensed it as well, and an arm snaked around Dick’s waist comfortingly.

“It’s not your fault we didn’t get him last night, Dick,” Bruce said softly.

“Are you sure, Bruce?  We were close, and we had to leave because of me.  How is that not my fault?”

Clark sat back and watched the parental moment.  He ached to jump in and reassure the child that Bruce was speaking the truth, but this wasn’t his time, and he was well aware that there was a vault containing Kryptonite somewhere close by.

Bruce leaned back in his computer chair, dragging Dick back with him until his child lay against his chest.  “Everything we know about this guy suggests that he is very smart and calculating.  He set that trap last night, knowing someone had to be following him away from Police Plaza.  None of his victims had any discernable traits in common, except for being police officers, making it harder to predict a pattern.  Even the night when he didn’t get a victim, he didn’t wait around long enough to push something.  When he saw that his plan wasn’t going to work that night, he cut bait and ran.  I can almost guarantee you that he was long gone before the first shot was fired at us last night.  With the way the gun emplacements were moving, they had to be placed on automatic rigs.  All it would have taken was a precisely mounted motion detector to trigger the assault.  If he was smart, which I believe he is, he probably set his trap and fled the second we walked into the warehouse.”

Dick sighed, “But, you don’t _know_ that, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded, “Yeah, I kinda do.  If he had been manually firing the machine guns, the shots would have been far more accurate.  No, last night’s trap was meant to be a distraction.”

“It worked,” Dick said softly, “You didn’t even get to investigate the scene afterwards.  It could have told us something.”

Clark finally interjected a question, “Do you even have an identity of the shooter yet?”

Something pinged in the back of Bruce’s mind as he turned himself and Dick towards the computer.  “Let’s find out.”

Bruce brought up the felon search program that had been set to run before they left on patrol last night.  If Bruce was honest with himself, he had forgotten all about the search once he had to take care of his injured son.  The search had finished hours before, and the results were far more promising this time.  Five potential suspects were displayed before the Dynamic Duo and the Man of Steel.  Clark had pulled his chair over next to the pair.

“I like this number a lot better than the last one,” Bruce said.

“How are you going to narrow it down to just one,” Clark asked.  “Can you really afford the time it will take to investigate all five?  Won’t he kill again before you can track all of them down?”

Bruce shot Clark a light glare, “There is a reason it’s called Detective work.  Unlike a reporter, I don’t have to make everything work, or sound pretty.  Means, motive, and opportunity are all I need to pursue a lead, and most of the time, there isn’t even that to go on.”

Clark liked the fact that Bruce didn’t seem like he was going to kick him out while Bruce and Dick figured out the mystery.  He secretly found Batman’s tales fascinating, and he was determined to enjoy this behind-the-scenes peek at their process.

“So, what’s your first step?”

Bruce clicked on each file, and a set of mug shot pictures lined up on the screen.  Surprisingly, at least for Clark, all five men looked remarkably similar.  Staring at the pictures, Bruce said, “Dick, can you pull up the case file and read me the description?”

Dick hesitated for a second before responding.  He knew that meant he would have to get up, and he wasn’t looking forward to that.  He had finally found a position where he could sit without pain in his hip, and he never left Bruce’s lap without good reason.  Unfortunately, for Dick’s thought process, finding the identity of the killer _was_ a good enough reason.

He slid slowly out of Bruce’s lap and said, “…Okay.  Give me a second.”

Bruce winced along with Dick.  For a minute, he had forgotten that his boy had a healing hole in his hip, and walking was painful for him.  “Dick, I’m…”

“It’s okay, Bruce,” Dick interrupted, before Batman could apologize in front of Superman.  “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did earlier.”

“But it still hurts, and Leslie told you to take it easy.”

Dick looked back at the men, “Getting a serial killer off the streets is more important than whether taking a couple steps is going to hurt me.  What did you need from the file?”

Bruce slid his chair over to Dick, who sat in Bruce’s lap again.  “Read the description you got from Gordon’s daughter out.”

Dick gave a smile, and Clark thought there was more to the look than he had been told.  Dick read the description out loud, and Clark looked at each of the mug shots in turn.

“Well, that could be any of these guys.”

Bruce nodded as he rolled his chair in front of the center monitor again, “It could, which is why the program flagged these men.”

“At least it only gave us five this time,” Dick said, a hint of relief in his tone.

Clark looked over again, “You’ve run this search before?”

Bruce nodded, “Two nights ago.  It came back with twenty-five results yesterday, before we refined the parameters and set it to search again.  Take a look and see if we can get rid of more of these criminals.”

The three crime fighters were silent for a good five minutes, staring at the pictures and repeating Barbara’s description in their heads, before Dick reached over and enlarged one photograph.

“We can get rid of this guy.  The face is the wrong shape, and the scar is on the wrong cheek.”

Bruce looked closer at the picture before saying, “You’re right.  The scar is supposed to be on the right cheek, not the left.”

Bruce hit several buttons, and five pictures became four.

“How about this guy?  The scar is on the right side.”

Bruce enlarged the picture, but Dick shook his head after just a second.  “The scar isn’t long enough.  Barbara said it went down his neck.  This guy’s scar is just on his cheek.  And, he has all his teeth.  Barbara said the killer was missing a tooth.”

Clark looked over with a devious grin, “Barbara?”

Dick looked back with a much softer smile than the one Clark was sending to him.  “Yeah.  Commissioner Gordon’s daughter.  She gave us the description of the guy who shot her Dad.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, “Really?  It sounds like she caught the eye of a certain young bird, as well.”

Dick blushed as he realized just how obvious it was that he was developing a crush on Barbara Gordon, but didn’t say anything.  The room fell silent as Bruce pulled up a picture and said quietly, “It’s him.”

Dick and Clark stared at the picture for close to a minute before Dick said, “Every time I make a declaration like that in an investigation, you make me explain my reasoning.  So, Bruce, why do you think it is this guy?”

Clark had to turn his head to not reveal his bright smile and near laugh at the turn of roles.  Bruce pointed out various parts of the mug shot.  “The scar is right.  The shape of the face is right.  The receding hairline is right.  This is the only one in the right height range.  The missing tooth is right.  It’s right.  This is the closest suspect to the description we have.”

Clark reached over and brought up the suspect’s record and read out the highlights.  “Richard Farkas.  Former police officer.  He was on the Gotham PD SWAT team for four years.  He was arrested for aggravated assault and negligent homicide when he killed a carjacker while off-duty.  He was given jail time, but was fired from the force when it came out that he was drunk when he killed the carjacker.  The police commission called it a gross dereliction of duty, even though he was out of uniform and off-duty when it happened.  After he was jailed, several other allegations of abuse of power came up.”

Bruce looked over, not realizing that Dick had fallen silent, and was only partially listening to the recitation.  “Record in prison?”

Clark scanned the next part of the file, almost giddy that he got to be a part of Bruce’s investigation.  “Unremarkable.  The department cut him a deal.  Plead guilty for a reduced sentence.  He got ten years, served five and a half.  No incidents reported while in prison…wait, except one.  He had a second trial while in prison, for the abuse allegations.  He was found culpable of the excessive force charges.  Forfeited all back pay, benefits, and pension.  He put his cellmate in intensive care the day he was informed of the decision against him, and he supposedly verbally vowed to get even.  This sounds like the right guy, all right.”

Bruce slowly leaned back, a smile forming on his lips.  “I know he’s the guy.  The picture matches the description.  The record matches the M.O.  The name fits.  It has to be this guy.”

Clark noticed that Dick was looking particularly disturbed at such good news.  “Dick?  You okay over there?”

Bruce finally noticed the lack of exuberance in his boy.  He sat up again and asked, “Dick, you okay, pal?”

“Are we absolutely sure it’s this guy,” Dick asked softly.

Bruce leaned forward again, to engulf the boy in his lap in a hug.  “I’m sure.  Everything fits, right down to the name.”

Dick flinched, and Bruce asked, “What is it?”

Dick sighed roughly, “It’s his name.  We…we’ve never gone after anyone named ‘Richard’ before.  It feels wrong.”

“We’ve never gone after anyone named ‘Richard’ that we know of.  For all we know, we could be arresting a Richard a week.  Come on, pal, just because you share a first name doesn’t mean anything.  You don’t know this guy any more than he knows you.  It’s not a crime to have the same name.  The Fraternal Order of Richards is not going to punish you for arresting one of your own.  You are actually doing a great public service in helping get this particular Dick off of the streets.”

Despite the tense moment, Clark snorted out a laugh.  Bruce glared at the alien, who said, “Sorry, but the double entendre…it was funny, even if you didn’t mean it to be.”

Bruce and Clark waited for Dick to say something.  It took a minute before the boy spoke softly.  “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but when you said that the name fits the murderer, and it also happens to be my name, it just felt wrong.  I don’t want to kill anyone, and I don’t want to be lumped in with killers.”

Bruce hugged Dick tighter and leaned back again in the chair.  “I know that, pal,” Bruce said softly, “and I’m sorry you thought that was what I meant.  It really isn’t.  Can I explain what I meant?”

Dick nodded gently, so Bruce continued, “When I said the name fits the crimes, I wasn’t talking about his first name.”

“I don’t get it, Bruce,” Dick said, confusion evident in his tone.

Clark shook his head, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to side with Dick on this one.  I don’t get it, either.”

The fact that Clark didn’t know what Bruce was talking about made him feel just a little bit better.  “Dick, what have you been calling this guy since you and Alfred figured out his pattern?”

Still confused, Dick said, “Um…The Big Bad Wolf?”

Clark looked at the boy strangely, “Why do you call him that?”

Bruce nudged Dick, “It was your find, kiddo.  Tell him.”

Dick nodded before speaking, “Well, I stepped on a stick at one of the crime scenes.  For some reason, it stuck in my mind.  Later on, I looked into crime scene photos, and found more sticks at more crime scenes.  I also found straw at a crime scene, tucked under the door mat.  That was at other crime scenes, too.  Then, he left a brick at the house of the guy he didn’t kill.  It was really Alfred who put it together.  Once he pointed out that the clues were like The Three Little Pigs, I realized he was trying to be the wolf.”

Clark was nodding, amazed that this boy had made such a huge find in the investigation, when others missed or dismissed it.  “The Big Bad Wolf tried to kill and eat the pigs…Oh my, kill the pigs.  Dick, if that is how it occurred to you, then I think you’ve been living in this city for too long.”

Dick smiled as he looked up at Bruce, “Maybe, once this is all over, we can take a little vacation, and get out of the city for a while?”

Bruce returned the smile, “We’ll see how your butt heals first.”

Dick nodded, knowing that was the best he was going to get.  “Okay, so how does all of this fit in with Richard Farkas?”

Bruce confirmed his guess in the suspect’s demographic file.  “This guy was born in Hungary, according to his police file.  He lived there until he was a teenager, before moving to the States.”

Dick shook his head, “I still don’t get it, Bruce.”

Bruce was showing, quite possibly, the biggest smile Clark had ever seen alight on the man’s face.  “Dick, Farkas isn’t just the man’s name.  Translate that from Hungarian to English, and it explains everything.  Farkas means Wolf.”

Dick gasped loudly, and his smile grew to match the one on Bruce’s face.  Clark wondered if this is how all of the Dynamic Duo’s cases were solved.  He sat back and watched the relieved looks on the faces of the father-son pair, a sense of fulfilment washing over the third wheel.

_I definitely think I understand these two a little bit better now.  My god, they think almost exactly the same.  How is it possible that these two aren’t blood relatives?  They really aren’t even falling into the category of father and son.  Dick is more of a Bruce clone than anything.  They complete each other._

Clark looked between Bruce and Dick, “This is good news, then.  One step closer to ending the siege.”

Dick’s face fell at Clark’s words, “What good does it do us, though?  Yeah, we figured out his pattern, and now we know his name.  We still don’t know where he is, or where he will strike next.”

Bruce gained a hint of steel behind his eyes, as Batman tried to take over.  Only the cuddly weight in his lap prevented the vigilante from completely overshadowing the man.  Bruce spoke softly, but his words carried a gravity to them. 

“You’re wrong, Dick.  We may not know where he is, but I know where he will strike next.  I know where he will be.  He really only has one choice.”

 

**A/N: So, what do you think of that?  We’re coming into the home stretch now, with just one chapter to go.  Any ideas about the mysterious final target, given what was revealed about our criminal in this chapter?  If you’re paying attention, it’s really rather obvious.  And yes, Farkas really does translate from Hungarian as Wolf, at least according to Google Translate.**

**I had really hoped to be done with this story by now, but other works have been coming to mind lately, and I’ve been working on getting something down for them.  Including this story, I am currently working on seven stories right now.  Several of them haven’t found their way onto the timeline yet, but they will eventually.  As many of you might know, I like to post my works in as close to chronological order as possible, especially since most of my works build off of previous stories.  The next one in order is also the one I’ve worked on the least, so once Straw is finished, that one, which is not on the timeline yet, will go to the top of the list.**

**Thanks for continuing to show an interest in what I’m doing.  I enjoy reading your comments and hearing what you think of what I’m putting out there.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	10. 10

Straw, Sticks, and Bricks

Chapter 10

 

Gotham General Hospital had a history of making the wrong decisions.  Construction of the building started December 6th, 1941.  It was intended to be a beacon of modern healthcare.  Instead, almost as soon as groundbreaking started, the entrance of America into World War Two brought construction to a screeching halt, as the entire construction company volunteered for military service.  A second company was hired to take over, but a depleted workforce combined with labor union disputes set construction back several years, and several million dollars.

Finally, four years after construction began, the hospital was completed.  The cursed nature of the building didn’t end with the end of construction, though.  The first official patient served by the hospital was its own administrator, when he had a heart attack during the ribbon cutting ceremony.  He recovered, but only served three years as chief administrator before another heart attack claimed his life.

The union disputes didn’t stop with the end of construction, either.  The returning soldiers of the first construction company found the building finished when they returned home.  The construction company quickly sued the hospital, and won their case, when they brought their contract to court and showed the judge that the hospital administrator included a clause in the contract that said the company had the exclusive rights to build the hospital.  Finding a new company to complete the building was a breach of contract, even with the five year hiatus caused by the war.

The rise of organized crime in Gotham City brought a spike in the use of emergency medical services in the city.  It was one of the unintended consequences of dealing with crime.  Unfortunately, the prosperity that the added business brought to other hospitals didn’t spread to Gotham General Hospital.  The hospital was located in the northern part of town, near Gotham Heights.  The main crime centers of the city, and therefore the areas needing an increased medical presence, were all located in the southern half of the city.  Gotham Mercy Hospital, which was built on the northern border of what would become known as Crime Alley, was half the size of Gotham General.  Yet, in its first year of operation, Gotham Mercy did three times the business of Gotham General, which at this point had been open for ten years.

It wasn’t even just external factors that made Gotham City’s largest hospital the second choice for those who had a choice.  Several decisions made by various hospital boards were looked on warily by the outside world.  The pediatric wing has had to be redesigned and rebuilt several times over the years.  The first time it had to be rebuilt happened when an ambulance driver lost control of his vehicle and crashed through the wall.  The wing was deemed unsuitable, and was moved to an area away from the emergency room.  The second time, it was found out that the new rebuild wasn’t done to building codes.  The third rebuild was caused by new machinery.  The hospital had a policy stating that all hallways had to be wide enough for two gurneys to be able to pass by each other with no problems.  The new hallways weren’t built wide enough, and the whole floor had to be reworked to meet code.

If all that weren’t strange enough, the color of the paint on the walls left every visitor with questions.  From the late 1970’s, the hospital started looking for ways to make the building seem friendlier.  It was decided that the antiseptic, bright white walls made the hospital seem too sterile, too uninviting.  After several studies, a nice, neutral, light taupe color was chosen for all of the hallway walls.  A contractor was hired, but the day before he was to start painting, he went to the hospital board and informed them that he could save them a dollar a gallon if they chose a different color.  Thinking that the five story building would take hundreds of gallons of paint to cover the hallways, the board agreed.  Nothing more was said about the decision, until the janitorial staff questioned the board about the new color.  That was when they found out that the walls weren’t being painted taupe, but instead were painted mauve.  The purple tint darkened the passageways dramatically, and, when hit by the setting sun through the windows, glowed an eerie dark red.  Unfortunately, they had already paid for the paint, so the job was completed.

Despite the bad luck that seemed to surround the hospital, it regularly earned top ratings for the medical staff.  That might be the only reason that the care of Gotham’s Police Commissioner was entrusted to the institution.  Jim Gordon had been rushed from his home to the emergency room in, quite possibly, the best protected ambulance in history.  Six police cruisers, two SWAT vans, and a dozen motorcycle officers escorted the vehicle the nine miles to the hospital.  Commissioner Gordon had been rushed from the Emergency Department, straight into emergency surgery, where two bullets were removed from the man’s flank.

Commissioner Gordon had actually been shot five times, but he had been smart enough to put on his bulletproof vest before opening his door.  The Commissioner was lucky that three of the rifle rounds were stopped by the vest.  At that close range, there was no reason that the vest should have protected the man from the assault.  He wasn’t so lucky with the other two rounds.  They missed the protective plates in the vest, and pierced skin, bone, and organ in their near-deadly flight.

Gordon would recover, but it would be a long, hard fight to get back to where he was.  Until he was able to leave the hospital, he was afforded around-the-clock protection.  Hospital security wasn’t enough for this patient.  The Gotham Police force assigned ten officers a day to guard the hospital while the Commissioner was in house.  One was always stationed outside of the door to his recovery room, while the other nine made random patrols of the building and parking lot.

Less than forty-eight hours out of surgery, Jim Gordon was wishing he had never answered his door.  If moving didn’t hurt so much, he would have been kicking himself for taking such a stupid risk, especially with his family in the house.  His only hope now was that Chief O’Hara had been able to get his message through to Batman, and the vigilante could stop this criminal before more murders occurred.

Having been in surgery and recovery, no one thought it wise to inform the Commissioner that the killer had already struck again.  The man wasn’t even allowed to see his family, who were moved into protective custody almost immediately after the attempt on Gordon’s life, so no one was going to tell the man that there had been more deaths.

While there were ten guards in the hospital, none of them were stationed in the Commissioner’s room.  Chief O’Hara and Gordon’s surgeon both ordered that the recovering man not be disturbed by anyone who wasn’t hospital staff.  Doctors and nurses still had to do their rounds, to make sure the head police officer would recover.  Other than that, Commissioner Gordon was off limits.

Since Commissioner Gordon was off-limits, the officers had to find small ways to amuse themselves on their long shifts.  Standing outside of a hospital room and looking menacing got old after a while.  The only reason they volunteered for this duty was to protect the only man who had come face to face with the shooter and survived.  It didn’t matter that Gordon had broken his own edict and confronted the killer.  His officers saw the act as the ultimate sacrifice.  In their eyes, he had gone to bat for them, to protect his officers.  That, more than anything, kept the volunteers coming for this special assignment.

Fifteen minutes after the previous shift change was supposed to happen, Sargent Desmond still stood watch over the Commissioner’s recovery room.  His replacement was late, but Sgt. Desmond’s wife understood what he was doing, and the extra hours involved.  She also figured that guarding a hospital room was safer than patrolling the streets, especially now, with a killer on the loose.

Wishing for a cup of coffee, Desmond finally spotted his replacement.  The man was tall and balding, and he seemed to be favoring his right side as he limped up to the room.

“It’s about time,” Sgt. Desmond said as the man approached, “I’ve been on duty for going on thirteen hours.”

“Sorry about that,” the newcomer said in an accented voice.  “Traffic is a killer tonight.”

Desmond nodded, “I can understand that.  Noting to report here, the shift has been quiet.  The nurse made her rounds at the top of the hour, and is due back in a couple minutes.  The doctor should be by around midnight.  Oops, spoke too soon.”

A young nurse wearing fluorescent pink scrubs passed the two officers with a smile as she walked into Commissioner Gordon’s room to take his quarter hour vitals and empty his drains.  Since they had a couple minutes, Desmond continued talking to his replacement.

“Say, did you see that thing at Police Plaza yesterday?  Crazy, right?  I’m glad I had last night off.”

The man nodded, “Yes, I was there.  Crazy.”

Desmond’s eyes widened, “You were there?  How did you survive that?  The news said it was like a massacre out there.”

“I was inside of the building.  It sounded like being back in Kuwait in ninety-one.”

Desmond nodded slowly, “Army?”  The man nodded as Desmond continued, “I was Navy myself.  Sometimes I miss those old days.  Say, I didn’t catch your name.”

The man smiled and offered his hand, “Rich.  Rich Farkas.”

Desmond shook the hand, “Phil Desmond.  You know, I can’t quite place your accent.  I’m usually pretty good at that, but yours is stumping me.  I want to say Russian, but I know that’s not it.”

Farkas nodded, “Close.  I was born in Hungary.”

The nurse exited the private room and Desmond yawned.  “Okay.  Since she’s done, I guess I’m done, too.  Remember the rules.  Only hospital staff in or out of the room.  Check ID’s if they look out of place.  And remember, we’re in a hospital.  If anyone tries anything, don’t feel bad about creating some more business for the doctors and nurses.  Good night, Rich.”

“Good night, Phil.”

Sgt. Desmond walked away, and Farkas started plotting.  _Okay, step one complete.  Now, I wait._   Farkas had thought he would have to spend a couple minutes talking with the previous shift, but it had taken longer than he thought to get rid of the man.  _I’m not sure I can pull it off and escape before the next nurse comes to check on Gordon.  I’ll have to wait until after the next vitals check to finish him._

The nurse in pink came and left again, and Farkas waited another minute before slipping into the private room and locking the door behind him.  Even with the door ordered to be kept closed, the nurse had still drawn the curtain around the bed, blinding the target from the assailant.

A groggy voice sounded from behind the curtain.  “Did you forget something, nurse?”

“No,” Farkas said softly, “She didn’t forget anything.”

“Who are you,” Gordon gasped.

“Don’t you remember me?” Farkas asked, stepping around the curtain.  “That’s rude, Commissioner.  After all, you ruined my life.  The least you can do is remember me.”

Gordon’s hands were shaking as he said softly, “I’m sorry.  I don’t know who you are.  Why don’t you tell me, and maybe we can work all this out.”

Farkas started pacing at the end of the hospital bed, stroking his chin as he spoke.  “Well…I go to all this trouble, and you don’t even remember me.  I guess that is to be expected; it _has_ been five years, after all.  Oh, by the way, you can stop jamming that call button now.  All that will do is give you a sore thumb.  I’ve been planning my revenge against you for five years, did you honestly think I wouldn’t think to disconnect your monitors?  Okay, to be honest, that was a last minute touch.  You were supposed to die in your home, not be saved here.  You should have had the common decency to die there.  Now, I’ll just have to make your death that much more painful.”

“How did you find me, and my officers?  Who is working with you?”

Farkas almost smiled, “No one is working with me.  I don’t need anyone inside your police force to get my revenge.  I followed your officers home from their shifts.  I waited outside of a station until I saw someone leaving, and followed them.  That’s why you could never find me, because there was no pattern to the victims.  It was just whoever was leaving the station when I showed up.”

The shake in Gordon’s hands found its way into his voice.  “Aren’t you concerned about being found here?”

Farkas looked like he was confused by the question, “Why?  As far as anyone knows, I’m your replacement guard for the night.  I’ve already spoken to the nursing staff.  They were quite chatty when it came to your condition.  That was good, because it gave me time to disconnect your monitors from their view.  The vitals they are seeing are actually from the patient in room six-oh-two.  I hear he…I mean you…are resting comfortably.  No one will even think of checking on you for another,” Farkas checked his watch, “twelve minutes.  I’ll be long gone by then.  So will you, by the way.”

“Who are you,” Gordon asked with wide eyes.

“I am Richard Farkas,” the intruder said, stopping his pacing, “I’m Richard Farkas, and I’ve killed fifteen of your officers.  You were to be my last victim.”

Commissioner Gordon grew an inquisitive look.  “Farkas?  Farkas.”  Comprehension dawned on his face, “I remember you now.  Murder of a carjacker.  Ten years in jail, right?”

Farkas’ eyes were blazing as he leaned over the edge of the bed, “Prison.  You sent me to _prison_.  That is completely different from jail.  Do you know what inmates do to cops in prison?  It’s almost as bad as what they do to pedophiles.”

“You had your day in court, Farkas.  The punishment fit the crime.”

“I admit, what I did was wrong, but what you did was just as wrong.”

Gordon looked confused again, “What _I_ did?”

Farkas walked to the side of the bed, “You abandoned me.  You hung me out to dry.  Yes, I should have gone to jail for what I did, but police are afforded certain protections while serving jail sentences.  I was denied those protections.  The force turned its back on me.  _Me!_ A fellow officer!  The union refused to defend me in court.  I had to rely on a public defender; some kid, fresh out of law school.  He’d only tried three cases before being assigned my case, and hadn’t won any of them.  Is that any way to treat a decorated officer?  I was railroaded!”

“You were guilty,” Gordon shot back.  “You had a responsibility to the people of this city, and you failed to live up to the oath you took.  I’m sorry if you think this was done to spite you, but I will not have dirty cops in my department.”

The sneer on Farkas’ face was quite possibly the scariest thing Gordon had faced in a long time.  The killer spoke in a sinister, deathly quiet tone, “I was never dirty.  I was a good cop, and what do I have to show for it?  Nothing.  Not a goddamn thing.  I gave my life to this city, and it took it without a second thought.  I lost everything, do you understand me.  Everything!  I lost my job.  I lost my house.  I lost my pension, my retirement, my insurance, my…” Farkas turned and swallowed roughly before being able to force out, “…my wife.  It’s all gone.  Well, no more.  I’m done losing.  It’s time for someone else to lose.  It’s time for _you_ to lose, Commissioner James Gordon.”

Farkas turned back to Gordon, and the patient gasped as he saw the switchblade held in Farkas’ hand.  “I’ve been happy using rifles for my kills so far, but I wanted something special for this one.  My father gave me this knife on my sixteenth birthday.  My first birthday in America.  He told me that, one day, this great tool would help me do something important.”

Commissioner Gordon could no longer hide his fear, “W-what are y-you going to do?”

The polished blade sprung out of the handle, “What do you think I’m going to do, carve a sculpture out of a bar of soap?  I’m going to kill you, but first, I’m going to make you a promise.  I promise that once I’m done with you, I won’t stop until your wife and daughter are just as dead as you are about to be.  I also promise…that this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“I don’t think so, Farkas.”

Victim and attacker both stopped at the deep voice that seemed to come out of nowhere.  They both looked around the room as Batman stepped out of the shadow of the privacy curtain.  The vigilante slowly approached the hospital bed as two completely different looks were sent his way.

“Batman,” Gordon gasped, relief washing over his features.

“No,” Farkas snarled in a feral tone, “I’ve waited too long for this for some costumed freak to stick his cape where it doesn’t belong.”

Farkas reared back, clearly intent on sinking the knife into Gordon’s chest as quickly as possible.  Neither Gordon nor Farkas saw any movement from the Caped Crusader, but a batarang crossed the room in an instant, knocking the knife from Farkas’ hand before imbedding itself in the far wall.

“It’s over, Farkas,” Batman growled, “Make it easy on yourself.”

Pure hate was rolling off of Richard Farkas in waves.  He shook his head, shaking with anger, “No.  It’s not over until _I_ say it’s over.”

An evil smirk crossed Batman’s face as he kept approaching the man.  “Good.”

With a war cry that came from deep in his chest, Farkas charged at Batman.

_Meanwhile…_

Sgt. Desmond shook his head as he walked off of the elevator, into the parking garage of Gotham General Hospital.  This had been one long day, and the man was grateful that it was finally over.

He nearly ran into another uniformed man, hurrying into the lift car.

“Hey, what’s the hurry?”

The out of breath officer looked at Desmond strangely, “Sgt. Desmond?  Why aren’t you on duty?”

Desmond looked confused, “I’m going home.  I was relieved, Lieutenant Williams.”

Lieutenant Williams shook his head, “No, _I’m_ your relief.  I couldn’t find anyone for the next shift, so I’m taking it myself.  So I ask again, why are you out here, instead of guarding Commissioner Gordon.”

All the color left Sgt. Desmond’s face as he turned and jabbed repeatedly at the call button for the elevator.  “Oh, God.”

Back on the recovery floor, doctors, nurses, and patients scattered out of the way of the two sprinting cops.  The men ran, guns drawn, to the suspiciously vacant door concealing the police commissioner.  They only stopped when Sgt. Desmond bounced off of the locked door as he put his shoulder into it.  Lt. Williams tried the handle to find it locked.  No words passed between the exasperatedly desperate men as they looked at each other and nodded in unison.  As one, the men raised booted feet and slammed them against the solid door, raising a noise that woke the whole floor.  They kicked again, the impact shaking the entire wall, but the lock held.  A third kick, and the door gave way, slamming against the wall with a sound that could be heard two floors below.  The officers boiled through the door, guns held at the ready.

“Freeze,” Sgt. Desmond shouted as ran into the room.

“Stand down, Sergeant,” Commissioner Gordon called out from the bed.

“Are you okay, sir,” Lt. Williams asked, ripping back the privacy curtain.

The two officers each took a step back in surprise as they found their charge to be alive and well, and Batman holding a clearly unconscious and battered imposter officer by the shirt with one hand, his other hand raised to deliver yet another unnecessary blow.

Batman looked disappointed that he couldn’t give this felon another taste of his form of justice.  Instead, Batman threw the criminal roughly to the tile floor before walking over to the wall and yanking his batarang from the plasterboard.

“He’s all yours, Sgt. Desmond,” Batman growled roughly as he walked towards the door to leave the room, his job clearly done.

“Wait, Batman,” Jim called out, still confused about what had happened over the last few minutes.  “How did you know to come here?”

Batman stopped, figuring he could give a little explanation.  “Once I figured out who he was, there was only one place he could be tonight.  If I learned anything about Richard Farkas over the last couple weeks, it’s that he is meticulous.  He doesn’t leave loose ends.  You are a loose end, Commissioner, and he was going to come here tonight to…tie it up.”

Lt. Williams stepped forward to cuff Farkas, “How could we not figure out that this crime wave was being committed by a former cop.”

Batman shook his head slightly, “No, a current criminal.”

“He had a reason to be upset, Batman.  You heard his story,” Commissioner Gordon remarked.

Batman sneered, “A reason to be upset, yes.  Not a reason to become a mass murderer.  Can I trust that his sentence will fit the crime this time?”

“He’s not getting out this time, Batman, I can guarantee you that.”

Batman gave a short nod and turned to leave again.  Gordon called out again, “Wait.  Aren’t you going to tell me how you even got in my room, without anyone noticing?”

Batman stopped at the door, “I wouldn’t be any good at my job if I couldn’t accomplish something as simple as that.”

Batman walked away from the room, and heard Jim’s voice call out, “You really aren’t going to tell me?”

_Half an Hour Later…_

Batman drove through the tunnel leading up to the Batcave while only partly paying attention to the well-known path.  It had finally hit him that this murder spree was over, and the satisfaction that came with solving a particularly trying puzzle was settling over him.  Now, there was only one thing left to do.

_We finally got him.  Dickie will flip when I tell him.  He will probably actually flip…if his hip isn’t bothering him too much.  I wish you could have been there pal, but there was no way you could have been in the field tonight, and there is no way I possibly could have left this until after you’ve healed.  I hate to wake you up to tell you this, kiddo, but I really don’t want to see the sad look on your face if you find out over breakfast.  Wait, tomorrow’s Monday.  I probably won’t even see you for breakfast.  You can’t find out through a news broadcast.  I have to wake you up._

Bruce was a little disappointed, but not entirely shocked, to see Dick pacing at the end of the turntable, waiting rather impatiently for the return of the Batmobile.  Alfred stood off by the computer, patiently waiting and observing the young master, ensuring he didn’t try anything too strenuous.  _You should be in bed, kiddo.  It’s late, you need your rest._

The canopy was retracting before the car came to a stop.  Bruce climbed out to see Dick staring at him with a mixture of fear, hesitation, and hope written on his face.  Bruce peeled off the cowl and stared at his boy, who took a nervous step forward, then another, before stopping dead at the look on Bruce’s face.

_That’s almost a smile, which is more than Batman ever gives.  Which means…_

Dick sprinted the remaining distance between himself and his mentor, taking a flying leap to land in the man’s arms, his small arms wrapping around Bruce’s neck, his legs wrapping around Bruce’ waist.

“You got him,” Dick breathed into Bruce’s ear as much larger arms crushed the boy to the man’s chest.

“I got him,” Bruce hissed back in a satisfied tone, “ _We_ got him.”

The whoop of excitement nearly deafened Bruce, but he couldn’t care less about that at this point.  When Dick had settled again, Bruce asked, “Why are you still up?  You should have been in bed hours ago.  You need to rest if you want that hole to heal up.”

Dick gave Bruce a condescending look, “Like I could sleep while you’re out there, going after a serial killer.”

“Alfred?”

The butler inclined his head, “It has been a most trying night, sir, but I agree with the young sir.  There was to be no rest, so long as you were out on your own.  I merely ensured that the waiting activities were limited to the pacing you no doubt noticed when you came in.”

“How long have you been down here, pal?”

Dick cocked his head, “Well, you left here about five hours ago, so I would say about five hours.”

Bruce hugged the boy again, “I’m sorry, kiddo, but don’t worry.  Richard Farkas is going away for the rest of his life.  Let me get a quick shower, then we can go up to bed.  Oh, and Dick?”

“Yes, Dad?”

Bruce smirked, “I made sure to give him an extra shot for you, extra hard.”

Dick beamed up at the man and said quietly, “Thanks, Daddy.  You’re the best.”

 

**A/N: Well, another tale comes to an end.  I hope you enjoyed this one.  A little housekeeping note, the Sgt. Desmond written in as the guard was meant to be the same Sgt. Desmond from chapter one, the partner of the first victim we became aware of.  I thought it would be a nice way to round out the story.**

**Like I said in a previous note, I have several stories in the works.  I believe the next one up will be School Spirit.  I actually have another story in planning that comes before School Spirit in the timeline (it hasn’t been added to the timeline yet), but I’m not sure if I will continue with that one.  I will have to see how the outline develops.  I’ve written two outlines so far, and I’m not sure if I like where the story is going.  I’ll see after another outline if I want to pursue that story or not.**

**I’d love to hear your final thoughts on this story, and my works in general.  It brightens my day a little to see your comments and reviews.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


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